Annabelle Potter:Book One
by kmacdonald
Summary: Annabelle is Harry's older sister. Neither one knows that the other exists. And then Dumbledore decides he needs help keeping Harry safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hello to anyone who may be reading this; I really appreciate it. I just wanted to take this author's note to explain briefly what is happening. Of course, I could have been creative and actually made it a part of the story, but I didn't. Why, you might ask? Because I didn't feel like it, and because I am the one writing it, I don't have to do anything that I don't want to. Okay? Okay. :D**

**I'm sure that everybody has already done the whole 'Harry-has-a-sister' thing, but guess what? I'm doing it again. Ha-ha. Suck it. Except in this story, she is separated from him until Harry's second year at Hogwarts. Annabelle (Harry's sister) is raised in France with another wizarding family, but when she finds out that she has a brother, she returns to England to help Dumbledore keep an eye on him. This story that I'm writing right here is only taking place in book two (Chamber of Secrets), so there will be several sequels. **

**I hope that everyone thoroughly enjoys reading this story (or series) and if anyone has any thoughts or ideas about my writing, whether good or bad, I would love to hear them. I just love having reviews and constructive criticism. Anyone who might have a flame for me, feel free, I'll read those as well, just to make you feel like you've achieved something with your day.**

**And as always, I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I would not be sitting here on a dingy couch in my cousin's mini home writing fan fiction. **

Annabelle Delacour stood with her sister as they waited in line at the fireplace in the Headmistress' Office. They, along with most of the other students at Beauxbatons, were going home for the Summer Break, and Annabelle was very excited. It had been several months since she had seen her parents and younger sister, and she missed them terribly. She was especially close to her father.

"Are you ready, Belle?" Fleur asked, turning to look at her sister. "We're next."

"Very ready," Annabelle grinned. "I was ready months ago."

Fleur shook out her head of silvery blonde hair and rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you hate it here so much. I love being at school."

"I just miss Mother and Papa," she replied. "And little Gabrielle, too, of course."

"Fleur, Annabelle," called the deep voice of the Headmistress. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, of course, Madame Maxime," Fleur replied, shooting her winning smile at the woman.

Both girls stepped forward and took a pinch of Floo Powder from the offered bowl, and stood side-by-side in the fireplace, their full trunks standing on their ends in front of them. Annabelle and Fleur, at the same time, threw the powder to the ground and shouted, "Chateau de Delacour!"

Annabelle's stomach clenched as it was assaulted with the familiar nausea as the room spun out of sight. She closed her eyes to make sure she didn't get sick. She had been traveling by Floo Powder all of her life, but she had never gotten over the sensation of it. As the spinning began to slow, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes; she needed to be able to see which grate to get out of.

Annabelle saw the familiar kitchen of home, and stepped forward, holding her hands out in front of her; she wasn't the most graceful person in the world, and she knew that falling on her face was inevitable. As she landed on the floor, Fleur stepped lithely out of the grate beside her, laughing.

"You are the clumsiest person that I have ever met, Belle," she chuckled, holding a hand out to help her sister to her feet. "You must be adopted."

Annabelle laughed and climbed to her feet, dusting off her clothes. It was a running joke between the two girls for years, as they were nothing alike. Fleur was tall, willowy, blonde and beautiful, and Annabelle was not. She was of average height and weight, her hips a little too wide for her liking. She had ivory skin that refused to tan, and her hair was a deep, coppery auburn colour. While she was not ugly by any means, she looked nothing like either of her sisters. Fleur had deep blue eyes and delicate features, a straight nose and perfectly bow-shaped lips; Annabelle had shockingly green, almond-shaped eyes, a nose that was tilted slightly at the end, and her lips were a little too full for her face. Fleur was a perfect French lady, enjoying dancing, music and gossiping, and Annabelle liked to be outside, watching the boys from school as they played Quidditch or studying all of the wild animals that she could find.

And then, they had found out that she was, indeed, adopted. Annabelle remembered the day as though it had happened yesterday:

_In her first year at school, several people made the comment of how different Annabelle was from her sister. She had known all along that they were very different, but hearing it from other people felt different; it hurt. At Christmas Break, she had gone home and told her parents what people had said, and they reluctantly told her of how they had come to find her on their doorstep one November morning when she was just a baby. _

_ Annabelle had felt as though her world had been ripped apart, but her parents and Fleur had eased her fears. _

_ "We still love you, Annabelle," Madame Delacour had said softly, kneeling in front of her. "We always have."_

_ "And you are always my sister," Fleur had told her, smiling. "Now we just know why you're so much different." _

_ Fleur's teasing had done the trick, and Annabelle smiled. She knew that her family loved her, and now she knew that they wouldn't be treating her any different. _

She opened her mouth to give a smart-aleck remark, but the sound of quick steps coming down the hall stopped her. Both girls looked toward the door as their mother entered the kitchen. They smiled brightly and hurried to hug her, but stopped half-way across the room when they realized that she was not smiling at them. Instead, her eyebrows were drawn together and she looked close to tears.

"Mama?" Fleur asked, sounding nervous. "What is the matter?"

Madame Delacour ignored her eldest daughter and looked directly at Annabelle. "There is someone here to see you, ma cherie," she said, her voice tight. "He is with your father, in the library."

"Who is it, Mama?" Annabelle asked, wondering who on Earth was here to see her. She didn't have any special friends that would make a special trip just to see her.

"A man from England," Madame Delacour replied, covering her mouth with her hand. "He wishes to speak with you immediately."

Annabelle felt her mouth go dry, but she nodded. Glancing sideways at her sister, Annabelle left the kitchen and made her way to the library, on the other side of the house. As she neared the tall oak doors to the library, her heart began to hammer in her chest.

Monsieur Delacour was seated at his desk with the visitor when Annabelle entered the room. He looked up at her and smiled despite his anxiety. He stood up to greet her.

"Annabelle, my sweet!" he cried, hugging her tightly. He was a little man, barely taller than his daughter, but to Annabelle, he had always seemed like a giant. She hugged him tightly, knowing that he would keep her safe from anything. Eventually, however, he pulled away from her. "Annabelle, this is Albus Dumbledore."

Mr. Dumbledore had stood and was holding his hand out to her. Annabelle shook his hand and frowned. His face seemed familiar to her somehow, but she was sure that she had never met him before.

"Hello, Anna," he said, smiling cheerfully at her. "Or, perhaps, it is Annabelle, now?"

"Either is fine, monsieur," she replied, frowning. "I'm sorry, but have we met before?"

"Several times," he assured her. "But you shall have my forgiveness if you don't remember me; you were quite young."

"Come and sit, Annabelle," Monsieur Delacour said, walking back to the desk and pulling a chair out for her. "There is much that we need to discuss."

Annabelle walked around the desk and sat in the chair next to her father's. Mr. Dumbledore's chair was across the desk from them, and he settled himself in it comfortably. She noticed that his cheerful smile had disappeared, and he now looked rather grave. He looked at her over the tops of his half-moon spectacles for several minutes as though studying her, and then sighed.

"I am very sorry for having to come here, my dear," he said gravely. "I had originally thought to leave you here in France, but there is much that you need to know."

Annabelle frowned. "I'm listening, monsieur."

"How much do you know about your parents, Annabelle?" Dumbledore asked.

Her frown deepened and she looked at her father curiously.

"No," Dumbledore amended. "I meant your real parents."

Annabelle's frown was immediately replaced by a look of curiosity. Ever since she had found out that she had been adopted, Annabelle had been curious about her birth family, but her parents had told her that they knew nothing about them, except that they were English.

"Do you know my parents?" Annabelle asked quickly, leaning forward in her chair.

"I did," Mr. Dumbledore replied. "I'm afraid that they have been dead for ten years now."

Annabelle's heart fell. She had so been hoping that she would finally get to meet her family, but now that hope had been crushed.

"Oh," she said softly, slumping back in the chair.

"I'm afraid that this is a rather sad and surprising tale," Mr. Dumbledore said, looking back and forth between the two people on the other side of the table. "Annabelle, have you heard of a wizard named Lord Voldemort?"

Annabelle thought hard; the name seemed familiar to her, but she couldn't place it. Her father apparently did, however.

"Now what is the meaning of this?" he cried, jumping to his feet. "Listen here, Monsieur Dumbledore, even after all this time, we do not speak of the man, so you had better have a very good reason for bringing this up."

"Of course, dear man," Dumbledore assured him. "I wouldn't dare bring up the man if I had no reason to."

"I'm not quite sure who he is, monsieur," Annabelle said slowly, "but I feel like I should."

"Perhaps I should start at the beginning," Mr. Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "To help you understand.

"About twenty years ago, Lord Voldemort began gathering followers and started taking over. They were very Dark times; people didn't know who to trust. There were those that fought against him, but he killed them. Your mother and father were among those he killed. But there is more to the story than that – are you alright, Annabelle?"

Annabelle sat in the chair, pale as a ghost, as she was assaulted by memories. She remembered screaming, a high, cold voice, a snake-like face, a flash of green light, and an explosion. And she also remembered…

"Harry!" she cried, covering her mouth. "Oh mon Dieu!"

Mr. Dumbledore looked at her curiously. "You remember Harry?"

Annabelle ignored his question. "Where is he? Is he okay? What happened to him? Is he – is he alive?" She could feel her hands shaking, and tried to still them by clenching them into tight fists.

"He is perfectly fine," Mr. Dumbledore assured her, smiling gently. "The night that your parents were murdered by Lord Voldemort was the night that he was destroyed, and Harry is the reason for his disappearance. Voldemort also tried to kill Harry -" Annabelle covered her mouth with both hands and gasped "but was unable to. His curse backfired, and Voldemort was destroyed. Harry is now, currently, in attendance at Hogwarts School, and doing completely fine."

"Excuse me," Monsieur Delacour interrupted, looking confused. "But who in the Devil is Harry?"

"He's my brother." Annabelle said, looking dazed. "My little brother." Her father didn't look any less confused.

"He is the reason that I am here," Mr. Dumbledore said. "There was a bit of an incident at the end of the year involving your brother."

"What happened?" Annabelle was immediately tensed.

"Lord Voldemort somehow made his way into the school," Mr. Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. He quickly filled Annabelle and her father in on the happenings of the past year at Hogwarts. "And Harry, once again, made a narrow escape from him."

"Sweet Jesu!" Annabelle gasped. "Why would he go looking for Voldemort?"

"He did not know that it was Lord Voldemort," Mr. Dumbledore explained.

"But he still went looking for trouble!" she cried, getting angry at her brother's idiocy. "Is he a moron?"

Mr. Dumbledore smiled gently and chuckled. "Young Harry is as like his father as you are like your mother."

Annabelle shook her head.

"What has this to do with my Annabelle?" Monsieur Delacour asked.

"Annabelle, do you remember much about your parents?" Mr. Dumbledore asked her, ignoring the other man's question.

"Not much," Annabelle replied. "But I do remember my mother telling me that it was my job to take care of my brother."

"No!"

The three people at the table looked sharply at the door. Madame Delacour stood there, her eyes flashing in Mr. Dumbledore's direction.

"Ah, Madame -"

"You cannot take her!" Madame Delacour cried, storming across the room to stand beside her daughter. "She is mine!"

"Is that what you wanted?" Annabelle asked, looking straight into Mr. Dumbledore's eyes. "You want me to go to Harry?"

Mr. Dumbledore looked at her over the top of his glasses for a moment before replying. "Yes. Yes, that is what I want. I have a feeling that your brother is in for a lot to trouble in the coming years, and he will need someone there to keep an eye on him."

"I said no!" Madame Delacour snapped, gripping Annabelle's shoulder painfully hard. "You are not taking my daughter. She is only fourteen."

"My intention when sending Anna here to France those ten years ago," Mr. Dumbledore said softly, "was for her to stay here and live a normal life until such a time that her brother needed her to return. But, at that point, I believed that Harry wouldn't need her for a long time. I was wrong. I think that Harry will be in much danger in the next few years, and he will need his sister there to help him."

"And you are just planning to send my daughter along to Hell with him, are you?" Monsieur Delacour was also angry; his face was flushing and his mustache was bristling. "Well, you can plan again. She is not going."

"Yes, I am."

Both Monsieur and Madame Delacour turned to look at their daughter in shock, but Mr. Dumbledore smiled down at her in approval.

"Annabelle," Monsieur Delacour started, but Annabelle held a hand up to stop him.

"No, Papa; I need to go to Harry."

"You are not leaving!" Madame Delacour cried. "We are family, and family stays together."

"Is Harry not my family?" Annabelle shouted, jumping from her chair. "Is he not my brother? Do we not have the same parents? He needs me, Mama. My baby brother needs me, and I am going to him."

Madame Delacour sank into her daughter's vacated chair, speechless. Annabelle was usually an easy girl to get along with, and did all that her parents asked. She had never before yelled at them, for anything. And, although Madame Delacour wanted nothing more than to keep her child at home in France, she knew that the girl was right; she did need to go to her brother. She covered her face with her hands and began to weep.

Annabelle looked at her father, and he nodded. With a sad smile, she stepped forward to hug her parents.

"I am sorry, Mama," she whispered. "But Harry needs me."

"I know, mon amour," she whispered back. "But I will miss you."

"I will write," she promised. "Every day, I will write to you."

"Fleur, Gabrielle!" Monsieur Delacour called loudly.

A moment later, the door to the study opened and Fleur walked into the room, holding the hand of her little sister. Both girls looked worried.

"What is it, Papa?" Fleur asked, coming to stand with her family.

"Annabelle is leaving us," Madame Delacour said bitterly. "She is going to England."

"What?" Fleur snapped her gaze to her sister, who looked away quickly. "You're leaving us?"

"I have to," Annabelle said softly. "I have a little brother, and he needs me."

"So you're just going to leave us to go to him?" the taller blonde girl snapped. "What, you find your birth family, so we are suddenly not good enough for you anymore?"

"What?" Annabelle was so shocked that her head flew up and her jaw dropped open. "No, Fleur, it's not like that!"

"I do not care!" the blonde cried. "Leave; I will not miss you."

Without another word, Fleur turned on her heel and stormed from the room. With her exit, the room fell silent. Annabelle didn't know what to say.

Mr. Dumbledore sat silently for another couple of moments until he realized that the Delacours had finished with their good byes. He stood to his feet and looked at Annabelle.

"It is time for us to go, my dear," he said gently.

Annabelle nodded and followed him out of the room without looking back at her family.

"I trust your trunk is still packed?" Mr. Dumbledore asked and, again, she nodded wordlessly. "Alright, go and get your trunk, and then we'll leave."

Annabelle walked slowly into the kitchen to retrieve her trunk, which she had left by the fireplace when she'd arrived home. She picked it up, with difficulty, and then walked back to where Mr. Dumbledore was waiting for her in the entrance hall. He pointed his wand at it, and the trunk disappeared with a pop.

"Hold onto my arm, Annabelle," Mr. Dumbledore said, holding an arm out to her. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, monsieur," she replied.

"Good." Mr. Dumbledore spun on the spot, and the two of them disappeared with another small pop.

They appeared a moment later, hundreds of miles away.


	2. Chapter 2

Annabelle quickly took in her surroundings. She was standing on the sidewalk of a Muggle street, looking at a tall, grungy-looking building that stood between a big book store and a record shop. Annabelle hoped that this wasn't where she would be staying; it looked very dirty.

The Muggles that were walking down the street looked strangely at Annabelle and Mr. Dumbledore as they passed, and Annabelle didn't blame them. They had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the street, and Mr. Dumbledore was dressed in long, navy blue robes with silver stars embroidered on them. She ignored them and looked at the man beside her.

"Here we are," Mr. Dumbledore said cheerfully, leading her towards the gross-looking building. "This is The Leaky Cauldron." Mr. Dumbledore held the door open for her, and Annabelle stepped inside.

Annabelle looked around with interest. The inside of The Leaky Cauldron was much cleaner than it appeared on the outside, and she sighed with relief.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore, sir," called an old man from behind the bar. "What can I do for you this evening?"

"Good evening, Tom," Mr. Dumbledore replied cheerfully. "I trust the trunk I had sent was received?"

"Yes, sir, of course," Tom grinned, bowing. "I have set up the largest room for the young lady. I assume that this is young Miss Potter?"

"Yes, indeed," Mr. Dumbledore nodded.

The barman hurried out from behind the counter and, wiping his hands off on his apron, stuck one of his hands out towards Annabelle with a large, happy grin.

"Welcome home, Miss Potter," he said. "We've been waiting for you to return."

Annabelle was surprised to know that this man seemed to know her but, not to be rude, she took his hand and shook it. "It is a pleasure to meet you, monsieur."

Tom looked at her strangely, and then looked at Dumbledore. "Where was she raised, sir?"

"In France," Mr. Dumbledore replied. "Near Cannes."

"I see," said Tom, looking Annabelle over. She was uncomfortable with the directness of his gaze. "Well, as I say, you look the stamp of your mother."

"Do I?" she asked, suddenly more interested in what was going on around her. "I never knew."

"Oh, yes," the barman said, smiling at her.

"Thank you, Tom," Mr. Dumbledore said. "But it is late, and there is still much that I need to discuss with Miss Potter."

"Yes, of course, Professor, sir," Tom replied, bowing out of the way. "Room fifteen, sir."

Mr. Dumbledore smiled at the barman in thanks, and led Annabelle through the pub. They went up two flights of stairs and down one long, narrow hallway before finally stopping at a thick-looking oak door.

"Ah, here we are," Mr. Dumbledore said, opening the door. He stood back to allow Annabelle into the room first, and then followed her in.

Annabelle was slightly disappointed with the room. It was large, and clean enough, but it was bare, with no decoration, and the only colour in the room was the dark blue blanket that was on the bed. There was a blazing fire in the grate, however, and it helped to dispel the chill that had settled in Annabelle's bones. Despite it being close to the end of June, the air outside was freezing, nothing like it was in France.

"There," Mr. Dumbledore said, closing the door behind him. "Now, this is cozy. Don't you agree?"

Annabelle faked a smiled and nodded. "Yes, monsieur, of course."

Dumbledore sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. "Come and sit with me, Anna," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "There is still much that we need to discuss."

Annabelle sat on the edge of the chair and looked into the fire. Her day had been much more exciting than she'd thought it would be, and now she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into the bed and not wake for several days.

"Now, as it is obvious that there is no one for you to stay with here in England," Mr. Dumbledore said, "I have secured this room for the duration of your stay. You will have free roam of Diagon Alley, Tom will show you how to get there, but I must ask that you do not roam too far in Muggle London. It is quite easy to imagine that you would get lost." Annabelle nodded, and Mr. Dumbledore continued. "I will return here once a week to check up on you, and when it gets closer to the end of the summer, I will accompany you to purchase your school supplies."

"When will I get to see Harry?" Annabelle asked. She was very anxious to see her brother again.

"Not until you get to Hogwarts, I'm afraid," Mr. Dumbledore said. "You will be arriving a few days before the rest of the students, to get used to the school, and to be Sorted."

"Sorted?"

"Yes," Mr. Dumbledore said. "At Hogwarts, there are four houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own set of dormitories and a Common Room where they spend their free time."

"Which house is Harry in?" Annabelle asked.

"Your brother is in Gryffindor," Mr. Dumbledore informed her.

"Then I should be there, too," she said quickly. "That was I can keep a better eye on him."

"It is not my job to place you," Mr. Dumbledore said. "You will be Sorted into your house by the Sorting Hat."

"Will you be at Hogwarts also?" Annabelle asked.

"Yes, of course," Mr. Dumbledore smiled. "How silly of me, I should have said so before now; I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts, my dear. I will always be there if you need me for anything."

Annabelle was relieved; she didn't know anyone else in England, and knowing that Mr. (or now, Professor) Dumbledore was going to be around, she felt much better.

"I believe that is all for the time being," Professor Dumbledore said, standing up. "I hope you will be comfortable here, and I will be back as soon as I can." He made his way to the door, and then stopped and pulled out his wand. "I believe that this should be more comfortable for you."

With a wave of his wand, the room began to transform. The hard, dull wooden floor was now rich and shiny, and there were several white rugs on the floor, one in front of the fireplace, and one beside the bed. The bed itself was changed from a rough, square four poster to a more elegant French Revival canopy with white and gold bedding. The walls were no longer blank concrete, but were a lovely lilac colour and had several paintings on the wall.

"Oh!" Annabelle looked around and smiled in approval. "Oh, thank you, monsieur! This is lovely!"

"You are quite welcome, my dear," he smiled down at her. "If you are to be here for any time, I think it would be nice if it was a bit more personal. Good night to you." He turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Annabelle stayed in her chair for several moments, just looking at the fire. Now that Professor Dumbledore had gone, she realized exactly how alone she was. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently. Standing up, she went to her trunk and opened it, pulling out a pair of pyjamas. She stripped quickly and crawled into the bed; she would have plenty of time the next day to unpack her things.


	3. Chapter 3

Annabelle woke to the bright sun shining through her bedroom window. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for Fleur to come bouncing through the door to get her out of bed. Her sister had always been an early riser, and she'd always made sure that Annabelle woke up early as well.

"There is so much to do today," Fleur would say. "It is no good spending your day in bed."

Annabelle lay in her bed for several more minutes, but Fleur didn't come. Finally, she pulled back the blankets and sat up.

Memories of the night before came flooding back to her, and Annabelle almost cried. She hadn't dreamed that she had left France; she was now lying in a bed that was not her own in the middle of London.

"O mon Dieu," she cried in French, covering her eyes and flopping backwards onto the bed. "What am I doing?"

She laid there for another couple of minutes, fighting back tears, and then decided that there was no use in staying in bed. She remembered that Dumbledore told her that she could visit Diagon Alley, wherever that was.

She jumped out of bed and began rooting through her trunk for some clothes; she could unpack later.

Once dressed, Annabelle took a small purse of money and the key that Dumbledore had used to open the door the night before and hurried out the door. She got to the pub before she realized that she had no idea how to get to Diagon Alley.

"Good morning, Miss Potter," Tom the barman said, smiling as he passed her. "I hope you slept well?"

"Yes," she replied. "It was lovely." She remembered what Professor Dumbledore had said about Tom helping her, and she asked quickly, "I am sorry to bother you, monsieur, but I was told that you could show me the way to Diagon Alley."

Tom stopped behind the counter and set the bottles that he'd been carrying. "Certainly," he replied cheerfully. "It's not a problem."

Tom led the way through the pub, and to the back door. He opened it, and Annabelle frowned, confused. Outside the door was a small walled courtyard with nothing but a garbage bin. She opened her mouth to say something, but Tom drew his wand from his apron pocket and began to tap it on the bricks of the wall, right above the bin.

"It's three up and two across," he told her, and tapped on the brick in illustration.

The middle of the brick began to melt away, leaving a small hole. The hole grew and grew until an archway, ten feet wide and fifteen feet high, appeared in front of her. Through the archway she could see a long, store-lined cobbled street that twisted and turned until it disappeared from sight. Annabelle was impressed.

"There you go," Tom said, stepping back.

"Thank you, monsieur," Annabelle said, smiling at him.

Annabelle hadn't been expecting Diagon Alley to contain as much as it did, and she was impressed. Although not as high end as some of the stores in Paris' magical community, the shops in Diagon Alley had more than enough.

She spent the entire day walking down the lane, turning into every shop and looking around thoroughly, picking out things that she would buy when she got more money.

That evening when she returned to her room at The Leaky Cauldron, thoroughly exhausted, she found that there were two letters waiting for her on the desk in the corner. One was from her parents, and the other, from Professor Dumbledore.

Annabelle opened the letter from Professor Dumbledore first, and sat in one of the chairs to read it.

_Dear Annabelle, _it read,

_I am pleased to hear that you enjoyed your day by exploring the wonders of Diagon Alley. Now that you have had time to think with a clear head, I am sure that you will have many questions for me. I will be in London on the fourth of August, and I think it would be a good time to meet with you. _

_Sincerely, _

_ Albus Dumbledore_

Professor Dumbledore was right; after a good night's sleep, she was full of questions that she needed answered. Annabelle set Dumbledore's letter aside and picked up the one from her parents. She sighed deeply, and opened it.

_Ma bichette, _her father wrote,

_I am regretting my decision to let you go more now than before. Your mother cried all night long, as did little Gabrielle, and Fleur has refused to come out of her room. I myself am also very heart sick, but I feel as though we made the right choice. _

_Have you met your brother yet, my pet? What is he like? Please let me know how you are liking England. I was there once several years ago, and didn't overly enjoy my trip, but you may find it much to your liking. _

_Your loving Papa_

Annabelle read the letter over once more, and then put it down with Professor Dumbledore's. She leaned back in her chair, and sighed, trying to keep back the tears which threatened to take over again. She wished that her father hadn't written at all; she'd been enjoying her day so far, and now all she wanted was to crawl back into bed and go to sleep.

The next several weeks went by in a similar fashion. Annabelle wandered through Diagon Alley, spending most of her time in either Flourish and Blotts, the Magical Menagerie, or Eeylops Owl Emporium. She saw many young people running around with their families, and she wondered if Harry was among them somewhere. She looked anxiously for any trace of familiarity in any of the faces, but found none.

She wrote to her parents the day after she received their letter, letting them know that she was doing well, and that she did miss them. She did not, however, tell them that, despite missing them, and feeling bad for leaving, she did not regret moving to England.

On the morning of August the forth, Annabelle rose early and showered, getting ready for Dumbledore's visit. She dressed in a knee-length white lace dress and a pair of white sandals, and then tidied up her room. Her parents had set an account up at Gringotts for her, and she had filled her purse with what she would need for the day.

At eleven thirty, there was a knock at the door. Annabelle set aside the book that she had been reading, jumped to her feet, and hurried to greet Professor Dumbledore.

"Good morning, Annabelle," Professor Dumbledore smiled down at her. "How are you this morning?"

"I am well, monsieur," the replied, stepping back to allow him into the room. "Thank you. And yourself?"

"As well as one can expect to be at my age," he smiled, settling himself into one of the chairs in front of the now dead fireplace. "Now, in the time that you have had alone, has there been anything that you wanted to ask?"

"Yes, monsieur." Annabelle sat in the chair opposite him. "Where is Harry now?"

"Harry lives with your mother's sister and her husband," Professor Dumbledore told her. "In Surrey."

Annabelle frowned as she tried to remember. "But, they…don't like us, do they?" She could dimly remember her parents fighting about her mother's sister.

"No, I'm afraid that they are not overly fond of him," the old man replied grimly. "I had hoped that raising the boy would help to ease them into acceptance of our kind, but I was, unfortunately, mistaken."

"Then why is he with them?" Annabelle asked sharply. "If they do not treat him well?"

"That is something that I shall explain later," he replied firmly. "Is there anything else?"

"Why do I not live with them as well?" Annabelle asked. "Would they not have me?"

"That is also hard to explain at the time being," he said, frowning slightly. "You were in no danger at the time, and I thought it best that you be out of the country until it was time for you to come home. Of course, I believed that time would not come so soon."

Annabelle was getting frustrated with his replies, but she didn't show it. "When can I see Harry?"

"My plan was to take you to see him today," Professor Dumbledore replied. "But there has been a change of plans."

Annabelle frowned and looked at the man in the chair opposite her. "What exactly do you mean, 'a change of plans'?" she asked. "What has happened?"

"Harry, it seems," Professor Dumbledore said, smiling in amusement. "has, shall we say, flown the coop. Just last night, your brother was rescued from your aunt and uncle's home by a friend of his. He is now residing near the small Muggle community of Ottery St. Catchpole, with the Weasley family."

"And he's alright?"

"He could not possibly be any better," he assured her. "The Weasley's are one of the nicest families I know, and they think of Harry as another son. He is in good hands, there."

Annabelle nodded, and then looked at the old man. "Does he know about me?" she asked, suddenly cautious. "Will Harry be as excited to see me as I am to see him?"

Dumbledore's smile faded and he looked at her solemnly. "I'm afraid not. There has been no opportunity for me to tell him myself of your existence, and I sorely doubt that your Aunt and Uncle have even mentioned your name. As for whether he will be excited or not, that is a question that I cannot answer. It seems reasonable that he will be upset at first, after being in the dark for so long, but I'm sure that eventually, he will be very pleased to have you with him."

Annabelle thought about his answer for a moment, and then decided that it was enough for her.

"Alright," she said softly. "Well, are we going shopping? I am ready to go."

Professor Dumbledore nodded and stood. "Of course," he said. "There is much for you to buy, and we must stop at Gringott's first."

"For what?" Annabelle was confused.

"To get your money, dear girl," Dumbledore chuckled. "Whatever else would we go to Gringotts for?"

"But I already have my money, monsieur," she told him, lifting the small purse in illustration. "My parents set an account up here in England for me."

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore smiled. "Well, Lily and James have also left you quite a bit of money, Annabelle. It seems that you are a very wealthy young lady."

Annabelle nodded and, with a small smile, said, "I guess so, monsieur. Now I can buy myself more books."

Any time that Annabelle had gone by herself into Diagon Alley, she had spent little time moving through the crowded street and much time looking through the contents of each store. Now that she was accompanied by Dumbledore, however, it seemed that every person that they passed had something that they absolutely had to tell him. She stood patiently by his side as he chatted about anything from the price of dragon's blood to the law on Restricted use of Flying Vehicles.

"It would make travel with the family much easier, Professor," a short, little man said, smiling up at Dumbledore. "Brings the best of both worlds together; cars and brooms."

"Yes, yes, I do agree, my dear man," Professor Dumbledore said, nodding. "But I really must be off; Miss Potter here has quite a bit of shopping to get done."

Annabelle looked at the professor, wondering who he was talking about, and then remembered that her new name was Annabelle Potter; she was no longer a Delacour. The man's eyes flicked to Annabelle and grew wide.

"No, it can't be," he gasped, taking a step back and holding a hand to his chest. "Lily?"

"No, John," Professor Dumbledore replied gently. "This is Annabelle; Lily's daughter."

"Merlin's pants!" the man sighed, looking her over. "My dear, you are the image of your mother."

Annabelle didn't know what to say, so she just smiled.

"Well, we must be off," Dumbledore said quickly. "There is much to do."

"Yes, sir, of course, sir," the man said with a quick bow. "Have a good day, sir. And you, Miss Potter."

"Yes, monsieur," she replied. "It was lovely to meet you."

Dumbledore led her through the shops, collecting everything that was on the list of school supplies that he had brought with him. It took a much longer time that it would have if she would have gone alone; as in the street, every one of the shop owners seemed to have something of the utmost importance to tell to Dumbledore. Finally, however, they finished Annabelle's shopping and returned to the Leaky Cauldron.

"I suppose I shall stay for supper," Professor Dumbledore said, holding the door open for Annabelle. "And then I shall leave you for the evening."

Annabelle nodded, and sat down heavily in a chair at a table in the back of the pub. Dumbledore sat opposite her, and Tom hurried over to take their order.

They sat together in silence for a couple of minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. Annabelle was starting to have mixed emotions; she was excited for getting to finally meet her brother, but she was also nervous. She knew nothing about him; what if he didn't like her? What if he didn't want a sister?

"Nervousness is to be expected," Dumbledore said softly, as though reading her mind. "But you must not dwell on the negatives. Instead, think of the great happiness you will find when you are reunited with your brother."

Annabelle frowned. "Monsieur, how did you know-?"

"Your fears are not unfounded, my dear," he said gently as Tom came back to the table, their food floating along in front of him. "Anyone in your place would be just as anxious."

Annabelle nodded, but still felt as though there was something that he was not telling her. The rest of the meal was in silence.

After they had finished, and Tom had cleared away the dishes, Dumbledore stood and smiled down at her.

"The school year starts in several weeks," he told her. "The rest of the students will arrive at the school on the eve of September the first, but I will be coming for you in two weeks. You will have plenty of time to get yourself used to the school, and you will be Sorted."

Annabelle nodded. "Alright."

"You will be alright until then?"

"Yes, of course," she replied, giving him a small smiling. "I will be perfectly fine."

Professor Dumbledore nodded and smiled. "I will be back for you in a couple of weeks. Until then, stay safe, please."

"I will try," Annabelle smiled back at him. "Good night, monsieur."


	4. Chapter 4

A few days later found Annabelle walking, once more, through the crowds of Diagon Alley. Most of the store owners knew her by now, and they all called out to her and waved cheerfully as she passed. She smiled and waved back, but didn't stop. Her destination was Gringott's. She'd spent the remainder of her money on books and a new, small pure black kitten, whom she had named, simply, Kitty, and had to refill her purse before Dumbledore came to take her to Hogwarts the next day.

The alley seemed to be even more crowded than usual, and she couldn't figure out why. All she could see was that a good percentage of the people milling in the street were women who were oddly dressed up, and that they were all heading towards Flourish and Blotts. She shook her head and continued on up the street.

With a purse full of money, Annabelle skipped down the marble stairs of Gringotts bank. She had filled up with what she hoped would be more than enough for the entire school year, and there was still plenty to go. She was deciding whether or not she would stop for an ice cream or not when she heard something that made her stop in her tracks, halfway down the steps.

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

Annabelle was almost knocked down the stairs as a girl with extremely bushy brown hair ran past her, her hair flying out behind her. Annabelle followed the girl with her eyes, and gasped. Standing in front of her, at the bottom of the steps was a giant of a man, with long, curly black hair and beard and dressed in a long overcoat. But as large and out-of-place-looking the man was, it was the young boy standing beside him that had caught Annabelle's attention.

The boy was rather small and scrawny, and absolutely filthy, covered from head to toe with soot, as though he'd just climbed out of a dirty fireplace. He had very untidy black hair, and glasses that had one broken lens, and he also had, on his forehead, a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. But he looked exactly like she remembered her father looking.

Tears welled in Annabelle's eyes, but she brushed them away impatiently. Trying not to be too obvious, she followed the girl down the stairs to where Harry was standing with his over-sized escort. She stopped just within hearing range of them and pretended to look through her bag so she could listen to their conversation.

"What happened to your glasses? Hello Hagrid…Oh, it's wonderful to see you two again…Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

"As soon as I've found the Weasleys," said Harry. Annabelle felt her heart swell at the sound of her brother's voice.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait," said the giant man, grinning behind his beard.

Harry and the girl with the bushy hair turned to see where the man named Hagrid was looking, and Annabelle followed their gaze. Running up the street was a group of red-haired boys and an older, red-haired man who looked like he was their father.

"Harry," panted the older man, coming to a stop in front of him. "We _hoped _you only went one grate too far…" He wiped his forehead. "Molly's frantic – she's coming now."

"Where did you come out?" asked one of the red-headed boys.

"Knockturn Alley," the man named Hagrid replied, sounding grim.

"_Brilliant_!" two boys, twins, cried out.

"We've never been allowed in," said the younger-looking ginger, looking enviously at Harry.

"I should ruddy well think not," growled Hagrid.

A short, plump red-headed woman came into view, running quickly and dragging a young, red-headed girl behind her. The woman ran directly to Harry, and stopped in front of him, panting.

"Oh, Harry – oh, my dear – you could have been anywhere -"

Gasping for breath, the woman pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began brushing the soot off of Harry's clothing. The red-headed man, presumably the woman's husband, took Harry's glasses and repaired them with a tap of his wand before handing them back, good as new.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, pulling away from the red-haired woman who was wringing his hand and thanking him profusely. "See yer at Hogwarts!" And he walked away quickly.

Harry, the girl with the busy hair, and the group of red-heads all began to make their way up the stairs to the bank. Annabelle stepped to the side so that she was not in the way. She didn't want to let Harry out of her line of sight, but she knew that she couldn't follow them once they got into the bank. She decided to sit outside one of the shops and wait for them to come back out, and then she would follow them around without drawing attention to herself.

She waited for almost a half of an hour, leaning up against the side of a small restaurant, before she finally saw Harry and his friends coming back out of the bank. Much to her delight, the group broke up, leaving Harry with only one of the red-headed boys and the girl with the bushy brown hair as company. With a smaller group, she had a better chance of getting closer to her brother without being noticed.

Annabelle followed several steps behind the trio as they made their way down the cobbled street; close enough that she wouldn't lose them and to hear what they were saying, but not too close so as they would realize that she was following them. As she walked, she studied, not only Harry, but also his friends. The girl was dressed very primly but simply, in a skirt and blouse, but they looked brand new. The red-headed boy, on the other hand, looked like all of the clothing he wore was handmade, and as though several people had worn them before him. Then she remembered the amount of red-headed children had been with them earlier, and she realized that they probably had been; no one in the family had been wearing anything new. With that many children, the family probably didn't have a whole lot of money to spare. She was, therefore, extremely happy when she saw Harry pay for three very large ice creams for him and his friends.

The three wandered slowly up the street, looking into the store windows. When they stopped outside a shop called Quality Quidditch Supplies, the red-headed boy looked longingly through the window at a set of bright orange quidditch robes. Annabelle stopped too, and peered through the window with interest. She had never played the sport before, as the girls at Beauxbatons were encouraged to find more ladylike pursuits, but she had always found the sport interesting. Now that she was in England, perhaps she would try it out.

The bushy haired girl soon ended the fun, however, when she drug the boys off to the next shop. Annabelle walked on a bit, looking into some other shops while she waited for them to continue on. She gazed through the window of a joke shop, grinning at the joke merchandise that she saw. Annabelle leaned back and turned to see if Harry was anywhere near when someone bumped into her and knocked her into the glass of the window.

"Oh, sorry," said the person who had bumped her. "I didn't see you there."

Annabelle pushed herself off the window sill and turned around to see who had hit her, and found herself face to face with one of the red-headed twins that had been with Harry earlier. His twin was with him, as well as a black boy with dreadlocks. She laughed and waved away his apology.

"That is alright," she said, smiling at him. "I should have been looking where I was going."

The twin gave her an odd look, and then asked, "Where are you from?"

"Oh, I am from France," she replied. "I am transferring to Hogwarts this year."

"Oh, really?" The other twin looked interestedly at her. "I didn't know Hogwarts allowed transfers."

"I'm just that special," Annabelle grinned at him.

"What year are you in?" asked the boy with dreads.

"Fourth," she replied.

"Hey, so are we!" said the twin who had knocked into her. "I'm Fred, by the way. Fred Weasley. And this here is my brother, George, and our friend, Lee Jordan."

"It is lovely to meet you," Annabelle said, smiling at them all. "I am Annabelle Delacour."

"We're going inside," said George Weasley. "Do you want to come with us?"

"No, thank you," Annabelle said quickly. "I have to wait for someone."

"Oh, okay," said George. "Well, we'll see you around."

Annabelle bid the boys farewell, and then continued up the street a bit more, so that she would still be able to see if Harry came out of the store.

When he did emerge from the store, Annabelle groaned when she saw him go into the joke shop that Fred, George and Lee had gone into. She would have to wait again; she couldn't chance meeting Fred and George and Lee again when she had told them that she had been waiting for someone.

She strolled up the street a bit, looking through the windows as she waited for Harry to emerge from the joke shop. She glanced back to the joke shop often, making sure that Harry didn't leave without her noticing.

Finally, the three left the store, and the bushy-haired girl led them up to Flourish and Blotts. Annabelle followed again, but kept back so they wouldn't see her.

When they got to the store, Annabelle was horrified to find that she'd lost her brother. The shop was more crowded than she had ever seen it, and it was nearly impossible to move around. Move she did, though, and watched carefully with every step to see Harry. She had made it to the back of the store and had given up on finding him in the crowd when she heard his name shouted out. She spun on her heel in time to see a man who she hadn't noticed before (she wondered how she had missed him, as he was wearing a very vibrant set of forget-me-not blue robes and matching hat) dive into the crowd and emerge seconds later with a very red-in-the-face Harry tucked under his arm. The man grasped Harry's hand and shook it vigorously, smiling brightly as a small, dour-looking man danced around the front of the crowd, taking pictures.

After a moment, the man in the blue robes let go of her brother. She watched, slightly amused, as he tried to inconspicuously slip back into the crowd, but was pulled back by the man, who clamped his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man called out loudly, waving his hand for quiet. Annabelle took a quick peek around; the crowd seemed to consist of mostly witches, with the odd man standing around with his wife. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The prefect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time.

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be pleased to present him now, free of charge -" Annabelle frowned and rolled her eyes as the crowd of women cheered and clapped "-he had _no idea_ that he would soon be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me. _He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd cheered again, and Harry was finally allowed to escape into the crowd, heavily laden with a large stack full of books that he had been presented with. She smiled to herself when she saw him hand them over to the small, red-headed girl that she had seen earlier that day. He said something to her, but Annabelle was too far away to hear him. Wanting to hear her brother's voice again, she hurriedly slipped through the crowd, trying not to knock into anyone.

A tall, thin blonde boy got to her brother and his little red-headed friend, and she stopped, just within hearing distance, to listen to what he was saying. From the hostile look on Harry's face, Annabelle knew that this boy wasn't a friend of his.

"_Famous _Harry Potter," the boy scoffed. "Can't even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page."

"Leave him alone," the little girl hissed. "He didn't want all that!"

"Potter, you've got yourself a _girlfriend?_" the boy drawled lazily.

The girl went red in the face and took a step back, just as Harry's other friends pushed their way through the crowd.

"Oh, it's you." The red-headed boy wrinkled his nose, as though he smelled something unpleasant. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

Annabelle frowned. Why would he be surprised to see Harry? It _was_ a bookshop; obviously he would need to come here to get his books for school.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," the blonde boy shot back. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot."

The red-headed boy went just as red as the girl had, and looked as though he wanted to hit the blonde boy; he probably would have if Harry and the bushy haired girl hadn't grabbed his jacket to hold him back. Annabelle didn't blame him in the least; she was beginning to like this boy less and less with every passing minute. She wished there was something she could do, but she didn't want to reveal herself to her brother yet. She wasn't ready for that conversation.

"Ron!" the older red haired man from earlier hurried past her, closely followed by the twins that she had met earlier. She tried to duck down before they saw her, but she was too slow.

"Hey!" George called, pointing at her.

"Shh!" she held her finger to her lips and ducked behind a shelf, causing both of the twins to look at her funny. "I don't want them to see me," she whispered, pointing to where her brother and his friends were standing.

"Why?" Fred asked.

"Just go along with me, please?" she begged.

Fred and George looked at each other and then shrugged. "Okay," they said in unison, and then they walked away.

Annabelle peeked around the corner of the bookshelf to keep an eye on her brother. She noticed that a new man had joined the group of red-headed people, Harry and his bushy-haired friend. He was tall and had platinum blonde hair. He looked like a more mature version of the rude blonde boy.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said the man in a cold voice. "All those raids…I hope they're paying you overtime?" He leaned down to pluck a book out of a cauldron that the red-haired girl was carrying. He smirked as he turned the very battered volume over in his hands, and then tossed it back into the cauldron. "Obviously not. Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Annabelle scowled; she immediately disliked the man. She now understood where the blonde boy had acquired his attitude.

The father of the red-haired children turned red in the face, and stated, "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy."

"Clearly," the man named Malfoy smirked. His eyes roamed to the corner, where a nervous-looking couple that Annabelle hadn't noticed before were standing. "The company you keep, Weasley…and I thought your family could sink no lower-"

The cauldron that had previously been clutched tightly in the red-headed girl's hands went flying through the air as the red-haired man lunged at Mr. Malfoy. The two men fell backwards into a bookshelf and a dozen or so books tumbled down, one very narrowly missing hitting Harry in the head. Annabelle instinctively jumped out of her hiding spot and stepped forward to see if Harry was alright, but the two men had now broken into a full-out brawl. She watched for a moment, but felt as though she was being watched. She glanced up and saw that the bushy-haired girl was staring at her quizzically, as though trying to decide if she knew her or not.

Although the last thing that she wanted to do was leave her brother while he was in the middle of a fight, she knew that it was best if she left now. The girl was staring at her much too intensely. Resigned, she turned on her heel and hurried from the store.


	5. Chapter 5

At promptly ten the next morning, there was a knock at the door. Annabelle, who had been awake and ready to go for several hours, opened it, revealing a grinning Albus Dumbledore.

"A very good morning to you, my dear," he said, stepping inside. "I trust that you are ready to go?"

"Yes, _monsieur,_" Annabelle replied. "I have been ready for a long time, now." She wasn't exaggerating; as much fun as she'd had in Diagon Alley during the past weeks, the novelty had soon wore off, and she was more than ready to get to Hogwarts.

Annabelle took the handle of her trunk in her small hand and began dragging it out into the hallway while Professor Dumbledore took out his wand and returned the room to its normal state. He followed her out of the room and closed the door tightly behind him.

"Allow me," he said as Annabelle tried to lift her trunk to carry it down the stairs. She stood back, and Dumbledore used his wand to levitate her trunk down the stairs and into the main pub. Tom met them at the bottom of the stairs.

"I see you are ready to leave us, Miss Potter?" he stated.

"Yes, I am," she replied, smiling brightly. "I am very excited to get to school."

"I am sure that you will enjoy yourself," Tom smiled at her. "I remember that my time at Hogwarts was one of the happiest of my life. You will make friends, and play practical jokes, visit Hogsmeade; you will have tonnes of fun."

"I would hope that young Miss Potter here has plans to spend some of her time in class," Professor Dumbledore said. "Certainly more than you did, Tom." He looked over the top of his glasses at the barman, but the sternness of his gaze was hindered by the smile that was playing at the corner of his lips.

Tom grinned back at him sheepishly. "Well, I think I turned out alright, sir."

"Yes, Tom," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "You have done very well for yourself, even if you didn't attend very many of your Transfiguration classes."

"Yes, well, I am sure that Miss Potter will be a much better student than I myself was." The barman flushed slightly, as he hurried to the fireplace. "I have arranged the Floo to be connected directly to your office, sir," he said, turning the subject away from his school days.

"Thank you, Tom," Professor Dumbledore replied. He handed a pouch to Tom. "Payment for your services."

"Thank you, sir!"

Tom bowed to the older man, and held out a small pewter urn to him. Dumbledore took a pinch of the powder from the urn and walked towards the fireplace, which had a fire burning lowly.

"You follow me, Annabelle," he said. He took a firm hold on her trunk, threw the powder on the fire and stepped into the now emerald flames, and disappeared.

Annabelle waited for a moment, and then sighed. She took a small handful of the powder and walked towards the fireplace. The ash blew up into her face as she threw her Floo Powder into the flames, and she coughed. Ignoring the burning in her eyes, she stepped into the flames, and whooshed into nothingness. A moment later, she fell out onto a thick Persian rug.

"Not a fan of traveling by Floo, I see," chuckled Professor Dumbledore. He reached out a hand and helped Annabelle to her feet. "Your mother never liked it much, either, if I remember correctly."

Annabelle glanced up for a brief moment as she was brushing herself off, but then she stopped what she was doing and took a better look around the room.

Dumbledore's office was a beautiful and circular room. The stone walls were covered with portraits, which Annabelle assumed were previous Headmasters and mistresses. There were more books crammed into the shelves than Annabelle had ever seen before in one spot, and there were tables and desk littered around the room, all of them covered with curious instruments that she had never seen. Some whirred and spouted smoke; others lit up and emitted high pitched squeaking noises. She was amazed, and had a hard time focussing on anything because she was trying to see everything at once.

There was a soft trilling from the corner and Annabelle turned to see an enormous bird sitting on a golden perch next to Dumbledore's desk. The bird's plumage was a vibrant red, but he had golden feathers in his tail and through his wings. He also had a crest of gold.

"S-sir," Annabelle stammered, taking a step loser. "Is that a-?"

"A phoenix, yes," Dumbledore affirmed. "Have you ever seen one before?"

"No," Annabelle replied. "I have read about them, of course, but I have never seen one in person."

"Well, by all means, take a closer look," Dumbledore encouraged her. "He won't hurt you."

Annabelle walked slowly up to where the bird was perched, watching her intently. As she got closer, he ruffled his feathers, and leaned down so she could get a better look. Annabelle reached out her hand and stroked the feathers on his breast, surprised at how soft he was.

"His name is Fawkes," Dumbledore explained. "I named him after a Muggle man, a 16th century revolutionary."

"That's an interesting name," Annabelle said softly. "Fawkes… I like it. Sir, is it true that the tears of a phoenix have healing powers?"

"Yes, indeed," Professor Dumbledore said. "He's helped me greatly these past years. It's much fast and much more convenient than going down to visit Poppy."

"Poppy?"

"Madame Pomfrey is our resident matron," Professor Dumbledore explained. "I am sure that you will meet her before long."

Annabelle nodded and turned back to the bird, which was now humming lowly as she scratched under his throat. She smiled at him.

Dumbledore allowed her to stroke the bird for a few more minutes, and then cleared his throat. She turned to look at him, and saw that he was standing behind his desk with a very dirty, ratty-looking hat in hand.

"What is that?" Annabelle frowned.

"This is the Hogwarts Sorting Hat," Professor Dumbledore replied. "Its job is to tell us which house it is that you belong in."

"Do I have to put it on?" she eyed the hat with disgust.

Dumbledore smiled down at her. "I'm afraid that you do," he said. "But do not worry; it is not nearly as dirty as it looks." She looked at him dubiously, and he chuckled.

There was a light knock at the door, and Dumbledore looked up. "Ah, they're early."

He waved his wand at the door and it opened, revealing a tall, stern looking witch wearing emerald-green robes and a tiny little wizard with white fluffy hair. They stepped inside, and the door shut behind them. Both of the newcomers walked towards the desk, and then stopped halfway once they laid eyes on Annabelle. The witch's eyes opened wide and she looked surprised.

"My goodness!" she laid a hand on her chest, just over her heart and looked Annabelle up and down. "Albus, she looks just like Lily!"

"That she does," Professor Dumbledore replied. He looked at Annabelle and smiled. "Annabelle, this is Minerva McGonagall," he gestured to the woman who was still looking at Annabelle, "and this is Filius Flitwick. They will be your Transfiguration and Charms teachers, respectively."

"It's lovely to meet you," Annabelle said, curtsying to each of them.

"And you, my dear," Professor Flitwick replied. He had a very squeaky voice, and Annabelle had to force herself not to laugh.

"I have asked them to come here as witnesses to your Sorting," Professor Dumbledore told Annabelle. "That way, no one can say that you've been put in the wrong house."

"Speaking of which, Albus, we should get this started," Professor McGonagall said. "We're all very busy; term does start in just a few days."

"Yes, yes, of course," Professor Dumbledore agreed. "Annabelle, if you would please take a seat. This will only take a minute."

Annabelle crossed the room and nervously sat in the chair in front of the Headmaster. He smiled down at her, and lowered the hat onto her head.

"**Ah, Miss Potter**," said a voice in her ear. Annabelle was so surprised that she jumped several inches off the chair. She heard Dumbledore chuckle, and she flushed slightly and tried to ignore him. "**I didn't think that I would be Sorting you, after your brother came along. Well now, let me see, let me see. You've got brains, that's for sure, and a keen will to learn; Ravenclaw would be good for you." **

_No_, Annabelle thought fervently. _No, I need to be in Gryffindor._

"**Gryffindor, eh?" **the hat said, sounding amused. "**I thought it was my job to do the Sorting, not yours.**"

_Please, I need to be in Gryffindor, _Annabelle begged silently. _I need to be able to look out for Harry. _

The hat was quiet for a moment, and then continued. "**You **_**do **_**have the bravery for Gryffindor; plenty of nerve, as well. And all of your family have been there. Very well, you belong in - GRYFFINDOR!**"

Annabelle heard the hat shout out the name and, a moment later, the hat was pulled off her head by a beaming Dumbledore.

"Well done!" he smiled at her. "I feel that you will do very well in Gryffindor House. I, myself, was a Gryffindor student."

"You went to school here?" Annabelle blurted out before she could stop herself. She thought that Professor Dumbledore would be offended, but he simply chuckled.

"Yes," he replied. "But that was many years ago. Now, if you will follow Minerva, she will show you the way to Gryffindor Tower. She is your new Head of House." 

Annabelle stood up and went to follow the older woman, but stopped halfway across the room.

"I forgot my trunk," she said, moving to grasp it. But before she could touch it, the trunk disappeared with a quiet _pop_.

"I have sent it to your dormitory," Professor Dumbledore said. "That way you do not have to carry it around; Minerva is going to show you around the school."

"Thank you, sir," Annabelle said, smiling.

"I hope you will make yourself comfortable," the old man, looking sincerely at her. "This is now your home."

Annabelle nodded, not knowing what she should say. She would try her best to get comfortable here, but her home would always been in France, with her parents, and with Fleur and little Gabrielle. She walked out of the office behind Professor McGonagall.

The older woman led her to a set of spiral stairs just outside the office door. The moment they stepped onto them, the steps began to spiral downwards, making Annabelle grab onto the woman ahead of her to prevent herself from falling.

"I'm sorry," she said, letting go as soon as she had steadied herself.

"I suppose that I should have warned you," Professor McGonagall stated. "You are forgiven."

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, the two women stepped out of a stone archway. Annabelle was surprised to see that they were outside, in a sort of covered walkway that surrounded a large courtyard. Professor McGonagall walked briskly across the courtyard, seemingly not noticing the rain that was falling steadily from the sky, towards a set of enormous oak doors. Trying to cover her hair with her arms, Annabelle hurried after the older woman. The doors opened as they drew closer, and Annabelle gratefully hurried inside.

She looked up and looked around in awe. The Entrance Hall was huge, the ceiling going so high that she couldn't see where it ended. There were portraits and tapestries along the walls, and suits of armor standing at attention at the doors. It was nothing like the simple elegance of Beauxbatons, and Annabelle couldn't decide which she preferred.

"Just through there is the Great Hall," Professor McGonagall explained she descended the stairs. "It is there that you will eat your meals. There are four tables, one for each house. If you make friends in other Houses, then you are more than welcome to sit with them for meals. But for banquets, you are required to sit at your House table."

Annabelle nodded to show that she understood as she hurried down the stairs after her Head of House.

"This is the way to the dungeons, where you will take your Potions classes," McGonagall continued. "Professor Snape will not be back at the castle until 1 September. That is the same day that the rest of the students will be arriving."

"Okay," Annabelle said.

Professor McGonagall showed her the dungeons, and the Potions classroom, and then took her back upstairs. She led her around the castle for the better part of the afternoon, explaining about her classes, and the fastest way to get to each. Annabelle was surprised to learn that the stairs frequently moved around, and that doors and rooms liked to occasionally play tricks on people; nothing of the sort ever happened at Beauxbatons. She felt as though life at Hogwarts would be much more interesting than it had been in France.

As exciting as the new school was, Annabelle was quickly becoming tired of walking around. The school itself covered more ground than her old school did, and walking up and down the stairs was starting to wear her out. She was looking forward to getting to her dormitory and going to sleep.

"Here we are," Professor McGonagall said, stopping in the stairwell.

Annabelle looked around, confused. "Where are we?"

A small smile played at the corners of the older witch's lips. "Gryffindor Common Room lies just behind this portrait."

Annabelle looked at the portrait on the wall and grinned. The fat woman wearing a pink gown in the portrait smiled back at her.

"Password?" she asked.

Annabelle looked at Professor McGonagall, who stated, "Wattlebird."

The portrait swung open, and Annabelle looked into a very cozy-looking room. She walked in, and the professor followed her.

There was a roaring fireplace against one wall, with several overstuffed chairs and couches in red and gold upholstery in front of it. There were several other groupings of chairs and couches scattered around the room, with some tables. The walls were hung with tapestries and Gryffindor banners.

"Red?" Annabelle asked, looking around.

"Yes, red and gold are Gryffindor's colours," Professor McGonagall said. Annabelle groaned inwardly. She hated red; she didn't have the colouring to pull it off. "Now, I will leave you to yourself for the rest of the evening. Your dormitory is up that set of stairs; it will read "Fourth Year" on the door. Your trunk should already be up there. I will send food up for you. If there is anything that you need, feel free to come to my office; I will be there getting ready for term. Good evening."

She walked out of the hole in the wall, and the portrait closed over it, leaving Annabelle sitting in the Common Room all alone. She sat still for a moment, just staring into the gently burning fireplace, and then jumped to her feet. She hurried up the flight of stairs that McGonagall had pointed to, and soon found her dorm. She rushed in and began to root through her trunk, which was placed at the bottom of the bed farthest from the door. When she had found the parchment and the quill that she was looking for, Annabelle returned to the Common Room. She sat at a table next to the window, so she could look out at the grounds of Hogwarts, and realized that there was a plate of food sitting there waiting for her.

"That was fast," she commented to herself.

She laid out her parchment and began her letters home. When they were done, she laid them on the table and began to eat. She would ask McGonagall in the morning if there was an owl she could use to send them.


	6. Chapter 6

Annabelle woke the next morning, staring at the dark red curtains that surrounded her bed. She frowned, not knowing where she was, and sat up slowly. She threw the curtains open and looked around. She remembered now; she was in her new dormitory at Hogwarts. She smiled, and hopped out of bed to get dressed. Then she hurried down the stairs to the Common Room.

Just like the night before, when she arrived downstairs, there was a plate of food waiting for her at the table by the window. It was still warm; she could see the steam coming off it from where she stood at the bottom of the stairs. She looked around the room, but there was no one else there. Shrugging, she went to the table and sat to eat.

After she had finished eating, Annabelle ran back up the stairs to get her letters. When she came back down the stairs, her dishes were gone. Again, she scanned the room, but she was still alone. She shook her head and left, pushing the portrait of the Fat Lady open.

She looked around at the staircases, trying to remember which way it was to Professor McGonagall's office. It had been less than twelve hours since she had been shown where the woman lived, but she was already uncertain. It was an extremely confusing school, she supposed.

She looked around for a minute, and then decided to go down towards the Great Hall; she remembered how to get there. Annabelle half-ran down the several flights of stairs until she reached the Entrance Hall. She hurried across it, and was almost to the door to the Great Hall when she heard someone call out.

"Oy! You there; girl!"

Annabelle turned and saw an older woman with fly-away grey hair coming up the stairs from the dungeons. She was frowning as she walked over to Annabelle.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "Term doesn't start until the first."

"Professor Dumbledore brought me here," Annabelle exclaimed. "So I could get used to the school before I started classes."

The woman's face instantly changed from hostile to surprised, and then curiosity. She looked Annabelle up and down.

"So you're the Potter girl?" she stated, rather than asked. "Well, you don't look much like your brother, that's for sure. You have the same eyes, I suppose." She looked more intensely at Annabelle's face, making the younger girl blush. "Yes, you definitely have the same eyes. So why are you wandering around down here?"

"I was looking for Professor McGonagall," Annabelle explained. "But I forgot where her office was, so I came down here to see if I could find anyone to help me."

"Well, I'm afraid Minerva has popped down to the village for a bit," the woman replied. "Is there anything that I can help you with?"

"I just wanted to send these letters," Annabelle said, holding up the bundle. "Is there an owl that I can borrow?"

"The school has many owls for student use," the woman said. "Come with me; I'll show you the way to the Owlery."

"I don't want to be any trouble," Annabelle began, but the woman waved away her words.

"It's no trouble, dear," she said, starting towards the doors. "I'm headed to the Greenhouse, anyway. I'm Pomona Sprout," she smiled at Annabelle as the girl hurried alongside her. "I will be your Herbology teacher."

"Oh, it's lovely to meet you, Professor Sprout," Annabelle smiled.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Annabelle puffing slightly from the pace that they were keeping. From first glance, one would assume that Annabelle was much more physically fit than the dumpy little witch beside her, but the trek through the courtyard, across a bridge and down several flights of stairs didn't seem to affect Professor Sprout in nearly the same way that it did Annabelle. She walked along as if they were taking a nice, leisurely stroll rather than trotting down the stairs and climbing over the hills and dips of the moor.

"Well, just keep going that way," Professor Sprout said, pointing. "It's just around the corner of the castle. And be careful on the stairs; Filch refuses to clean the Owlery, so the scat has built up quite a bit."

Annabelle wrinkled her nose and watched as her teacher waddled away in the other direction. She disappeared a moment later as the moor seemed to swallow her. Then she took off to find the Owlery.

Professor Sprout hadn't been lying; the stairs inside the Owlery _were _slippery. Twice, Annabelle had to catch herself on the wall so she wouldn't fall in owl poop. She selected a large, tawny coloured owl, which was rather reluctant to come down from his perch, and attached the letter to his leg.

"Chateau Delacour, in Cannes," Annabelle said softly, petting the bird's chest. "And as quickly as you can, please."

She walked to the window, carrying the bird on her arm. With a loud hoot, the owl spread his wings and took off. She watched him go until he was out of sight. She knew he wouldn't be back for several days.

Annabelle was suddenly struck by how exactly far away from home she was. She felt as though her stomach was filled with lead, and she began to cry, the tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Up until this point, she had never felt so homesick. She had missed her parents and sisters desperately, of course, but she had never felt so truly far away from them. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to be that owl, and fly hard towards France.

And then she reminded herself why she wasn't with them. She was here for her brother; her little Harry, and within the week, she would be meeting him. This made her feel a little bit better and, after a moment, she wiped her eyes and left the Owlery.

She was walking back to the school, not paying attention to where she was going, when she noticed something shimmery in the forest. She turned her head and gasped; grazing on the soft grass just along the edge of the trees was a tall, stunningly beautiful unicorn. Open mouthed in awe, Annabelle moved closer.

She was barely twenty yards away when the animal picked its head up and looked at her, his eyes boring into her own. There was something in his eyes that was more…intelligent, perhaps, than those of any other animal that she had ever seen. He nickered softly, and stepped towards her.

As he came closer, Annabelle reached out her hand. The unicorn walked right up to her, and stuck his muzzle into her outstretched hand. She held her breath as she began to stroke his face; his hair was softer than anything that she had ever felt. Her hand moved down his neck, but then the unicorn froze. He backed slowly away from her, looking at something over her shoulder, and then turned and dashed into the woods and out of sight.

Annabelle turned to see what had scared him. Standing halfway down the hill was the largest man that she had ever seen; he had to be close to the same size as Madame Maxime.

"Hello," Annabelle said brightly to him. "How are you?"

"'ow did ye do tha'?" the man asked, looking at her in awe.

"Do what?" she asked, confused.

"Unicorns are very shy, they are," he stated. "I've never known one t' let a stranger pet them."

"I don't know," Annabelle said. "He just walked up to me."

The man shook his head slowly in disbelief. "Well, tha' was impressive, it was."

"Thank you." Annabelle shivered. She hadn't noticed until now that it was as cold as it was; she was wearing just a tee shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Now, wha' are ye doin' wearin' no coat?" the man asked. "It's too cold t' be doin' tha'."

"I didn't realize that it would be so cold," Annabelle replied, wrapping her arms around herself. "It shouldn't be so cold; it's only August."

"Ye do realize that yer in Scotland, eh?" the man said, a grin just visible behind his bushy black beard. "It's no' as warm as it would be in…where are ye from?"

"From Cannes," Annabelle replied. "In France."

"Ah, yes," he replied. "No' nearly as warm as it is in France."

"No, it's not," Annabelle agreed. "I think I should go get inside."

"Come wi' me," the man said. "I'll make ye a cuppa tea."

Annabelle was a bit wary about following a complete stranger to his house so he could make her 'a cuppa tea'. But she followed him anyway; anyone at Hogwarts was there because of Professor Dumbledore, and she knew that she could trust him.

The large man led her down a short path through the trees, and before long, they came out in front of a small little cottage. Surely the man couldn't live here, could he?

"Welcome to my home," he said, grinning cheerfully down at her. He walked up the few steps and opened the front door. Seconds later, Annabelle was bowled over by a blur of black fur. She shrieked loudly and tried to cover her face from a long, slobbery wet tongue.

"Don't mind Fang," the man said, reaching down to help Annabelle to her feet. The monstrous dog continued to bounce around her, trying to get as close as he possibly could. "He's a real sucker for a pretty girl." He grinned and winked at her before walking inside. With a bit of difficulty, Annabelle followed. Fang wiggled along behind her, his nose stuck to her hip.

Although the house itself looked far too small, the furniture was proportioned to the man who lived there. The chair that the man pulled out for her was so high that she needed to climb up before turning to sit, and then her feet dangled several inches off the floor.

"M' name's Hagrid, by the way," the man said as he gathered together the tea things. He set the cup (at least she assumed it was a cup; it looked large enough for her to put her entire head inside, although she didn't attempt it) down in front of Annabelle before turning back to get the kettle off the fire.

"I'm Annabelle," Annabelle replied. "Annabelle Delacour. Or, I'm sorry, I meant, Annabelle -"

"Potter," the man named Hagrid finished. "Aye, I know who ye are." He turned around and looked down at her. Although he was smiling, Annabelle was sure that she could see tears in his eyes. "Ye look jus' like yer mum, ye know."

"That's what I've been told," Annabelle said. "But I barely remember her. Did you know her well? She and my father?"

"Well enough," Hagrid sighed, pouring her cup half full of tea, and then setting the kettle on the table. "We all fought together, in the Order."

"What's the Order?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," Hagrid replied. "It was a resistance group that Professor Dumbledore set up to fight You-Know-Who."

"My parents fought against him?" she asked, leaning forward. There was little that she remembered about her parents, so she was very interested in any little tidbit of information that anyone could give her about them. "Against You-Know-Who?"

Hagrid nodded solemnly. "They sure did. That's why he…he…"

"That's why he killed them." She looked down into her cup to tea, watching as the steam rose in spirals. She had always wondered why her parents had been murdered.

"Do ye remember them?" Hagrid asked. "Yer parents, I mean."

"A bit," Annabelle replied. "There's not much, but a bit."

Over the past several weeks, she had begun to have glimpses of memories from her childhood. She remembered the happy things, like her mother watching on, baby Harry in arms, as her father tried to teacher her to fly in the back garden. She remembered her parents tucking her into bed, each kissing her on the cheek before leaving and closing the door slightly, leaving just a sliver of light from the hallway to shine in on her bedroom floor. She remembered having dinner with her parents and brother, and there were two other men there as well, ones that she didn't know.

She was also remembered the worst moments of her life; she remembered lying in bed, her mother having just tucked her in, and hearing her father yell, "Lily, he's here! Take Harry and Anna and go! I'll hold him off." She remembered her mother dashing into her bedroom, dropping Harry in his crib and turning in time to see the man step into the doorway. She had been so scared that she hadn't been able to move; she lay there in her bed, watching out of the corner of her eye as the man slowly walked into the room. Her mother backed against the crib, looking terrified. She begged with him to leave Harry, alone, but the man laughed a high, cold laugh, and with a flash of green light, her mother fell to the floor. She sat up and screamed, and the man turned to look at her. His snake-like face was the most terrible thing that she had ever seen. He had grinned evilly at her and said, "I promise, little girl, I will deal with you after I kill your brother." He pointed his wand at Harry and there was another flash of green light, followed by an explosion. She remembered nothing after that.

Hagrid didn't seem to know what else to say. He sat in his chair, looking awkwardly around the room, as though trying to figure out what to say. He must have thought of something, because a moment later, she was looking into his grinning face.

"I be' yer excited to meet Harry, eh?"

"Oh, very," Annabelle said, her eyes lighting up at the mention of her brother. "I cannot wait until term starts; do you know him?"

"Very well," Hagrid replied. "Him an' Hermione and Ron come down ter visit me all the time; he's a good boy."

Annabelle was pleased to hear this. She and Hagrid talked for a short while longer, and then she decided that it was time for her to get back to the castle. She thanked her new friend, and started the long walk back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Ho guys! The reviews that I have been receiving are absolutely amazing. I love them, so thank you so much. I have to apologize for how long I have left this update. This chapter had been done for a couple of days, but I just wanted to give it a once-over to make sure it is okay. Let me know what you think! Thanks. **

The next several days went by quickly. Annabelle spent most of her time walking around the school, trying to memorize the many hallways and the pattern of the moving stairs. Professor Dumbledore checked in on her several times a day, and made it a point to introduce her to the rest of her teachers. With the beginning of the school year drawing closer, almost all of the professors were now at the school. The only one who remained absent was the Potions Master, Professor Snape.

Finally, the day that Annabelle had been waiting all summer for arrived. She woke early, and showered and dressed, and made her way to the library, where she had been spending the majority of her time. Madame Pince, the librarian, seemed to realize that Annabelle was an immense lover of books, and allowed her to roam freely.

Annabelle spent the entire day sitting in a chair in the back of the library, her nose stuck in a book, until Madame Pince came to fetch her.

"The feast will be starting in an hour," she said sharply. "The rest of the students will be here soon."

Surprised, Annabelle looked up at the clock. Indeed, it was well into the afternoon. She jumped from her seat, stuffed the book back onto the shelf where it belonged, and dashed out of the library. After a quick freshening up in her dorm, she headed towards the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall was waiting in the Entrance Hall, a roll of parchment in her hand. She paced back and forth, looking out the window on occasion, but stopped when she saw Annabelle.

"Ah, Miss Potter, I'm glad that you had the sense to come down early," she said. "The rest of the school should be arriving in just a few moments. You may find a seat, if you wish."

"Yes, Professor," Annabelle agreed. She slipped into the empty Great Hall and quickly took a seat at the front of the Gryffindor table.

Several minutes later, a door behind the Head Table opened and the teachers filed into the Great Hall, Dumbledore in the lead. He smiled when he saw her and, instead of taking his seat, walked down to talk to her.

"Are you excited?" he asked her, smiling brightly. "Tonight you will meet Harry."

"I am, monsieur," Annabelle nodded. "But I am also very nervous. What if he doesn't like me?"

"He may be a little angry at first," Professor Dumbledore said. "But he will calm down eventually, and then he will appreciate having you in his life."

Annabelle nodded, but she didn't understand. She couldn't comprehend why Harry would be angry; she had been ecstatic to remember that she'd had a brother.

"Now, I must take my seat," said Dumbledore. "If my ears don't deceive me, the rest of the school had arrived."

Annabelle listened closely, and she could also hear the sounds of hundreds of feet and laughing voices coming closer and closer. She didn't know how she hadn't heard them before, but supposed she was too concerned with talking to Professor Dumbledore to pay attention to anything else. Professor Dumbledore hurried back up the steps to the Head Table.

The Hall was suddenly flooded with hundreds of students, all talking loudly as they made their way to their tables. The first several people to sit at the Gryffindor table looked at Annabelle curiously, and then began to whisper together, but Annabelle didn't pay them any attention. She was too busy craning her neck as she tried to catch a glimpse of Harry.

The Hall was soon filled, and everyone was seated, and Annabelle still couldn't see her brother. She looked confusedly at Professor Dumbledore, but he didn't even notice her, he was looking for Harry as well. She was worried.

"Hi," said one of the people sitting closest to her. Annabelle was forced to stop looking for her brother.

"Hello," she replied.

"Who are you?" the girl asked. "I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"That's Annabelle!" yelled a familiar voice from farther down the table. "She's a transfer student from France."

Annabelle looked at the person who had recognized her, and saw the red-headed twins, Fred and George, and their friend Lee sitting together about twenty people away. She smiled and waved at them, and they grinned back.

"From France?" the girl asked, sounding awestruck. "Wow, that's amazing. I've never been there; is it nice?"

"Yes, it's quite beautiful," Annabelle replied. "I lived near Cannes, so we were very close to the Riviera; it was always very warm; much warmer than it is here."

The girl laughed. "If you think it's cold here now, wait until January."

Annabelle groaned, and opened her mouth to say something, but the boy sitting across the table frowned and spoke up.

"I wonder where Professor Snape is going," he commented. "No one ever leaves before the Sorting Ceremony."

Annabelle looked over her shoulder just in time to see a man with shoulder-length black hair and billowing black robes stalk past them and hurry out of the Hall.

"What is the Sorting Ceremony?" Annabelle asked.

"It's when all the new students are Sorted into their houses," her neighbour replied. "It's actually kind of dull; I wonder why you aren't being Sorted with them."

"Professor Dumbledore thought it would be better if I was Sorted before everyone else," Annabelle explained. "I've been here for a week, so I could get used to everything before classes started."

"Oh, well, I suppose that makes sense," the girl allowed. "People are going to be very curious about you; we've never had a transfer student before. Oh, what year are you in?"

"I'm in my fourth year," Annabelle told her.

The girl clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, good; me too, so we'll be dorm mates."

Just then the doors to the Hall opened again, and Professor McGonagall walked into the room, closely followed by a long line of tiny little children. It was painfully obvious that they were terrified. They lined up in front of the Head Table, where there was a little stool holding the Sorting Hat that Annabelle hadn't noticed before.

Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat, and began to read names off a scroll. One by one, the students were Sorted into their new houses. Annabelle clapped along with the rest of the Gryffindors whenever the Hat appointed them a new student, but all the while, she continued to search for Harry.

Finally, the last of the new students had been Sorted and were seated at their house tables, and Annabelle was still hadn't found Harry's face among the crowd. She'd been hopeful for a brief minute when she spied her brother's bushy-haired friend sitting half-way up the table, but the young girl was alone, and looking around anxiously, as though looking for Harry as well.

Professor Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat. It wasn't overly loud, but immediately the hall went silent, and everyone's attention was diverted from their conversation to the old man. He smiled warmly down at everyone, looking happier than Annabelle had ever seen him.

"Welcome to all!" he said. His voice was just as soft as it usually was, but it somehow seemed to reach into every corner of the Great Hall, and everyone seemed to be able to hear him without a problem. "It is wonderful to see everyone back here at Hogwarts for another year of school. I hope that everyone will enjoy themselves immensely.

"Just a few start of term notices; I have been asked by our caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind you that all Zonko's products are expressly forbidden in the castle's corridors. The Forbidden Forest is, oddly enough, forbidden." A smile formed in his eyes and, despite her worry, Annabelle couldn't help but smile with him. "This is a note for all of our newest students, and also a reminder for some of the older students, as well."

Professor McGonagall, who had been absent for several moments, now stepped in beside Professor Dumbledore and spoke lowly to him. The smile faded from his face instantly.

"Everyone, please enjoy your feast." He turned on his heel and quickly followed Professor McGonagall out of the Great Hall.

Annabelle followed the two adults until they were out of sight, not even noticing that the gold plates in front of her were now piled high with food until her new dorm-mate called her attention back.

"Are you going to eat?"

Annabelle's eyes widened at the sight of all the food that was now in front of her. She hadn't noticed until that moment exactly how hungry she was; her stomach growled embarrassingly loudly, and she decided that she could worry about Harry later, when she had finished eating. After all, he was a twelve year old boy; how much trouble could he get into?

Annabelle had already stuffed herself on the delicious food and was helping herself to a plate of pudding when she heard something that made her choke. The girl sitting beside her patted her back helpfully while looking concerned and the boy across the table handed her a cup, which she gladly took. She took a mouthful of liquid, and nearly spit it back out, although she managed to swallow the disgusting orange liquid.

"Are you alright?" the girl asked. "I thought you were going to choke to death."

Annabelle ignored her, and instead turned her attention on a dark-skinned boy who was sitting a few seats up from her, who was in the middle of an enthusiastic conversation with the red-haired twins. Her mother would have scolded her for being so rude, but Annabelle butted into their conversation, interrupting the boy mid-sentence.

"Say that again!" she cried, looking sharply at him.

"Say what again?" he asked, looking at her as though she had three heads.

"What did you just say?" she asked, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart rate. "About Harry Potter?"

"Oh," the boy replied. "He wasn't on the train because he and his Weasley friend flew a car to school this year."

Annabelle's mouth dropped open. Was that even possible? Maybe it was just a stupid crazy rumour that somehow seemed to start in schools.

"Where would he have gotten a flying car?" the girl beside Annabelle asked skeptically.

"It was our dad's," one of the twins, George, Annabelle thought, said quickly.

"You'd think that they would have called us back, though," frowned his twin. "I mean, Ron hasn't flown the car before; we've had lots of experience."

Annabelle opened her mouth to say something, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked up and saw a very stern looking Professor McGonagall looking down at her.

"You are to follow me, please," she said in a low voice. "Headmaster Dumbledore wishes to speak to you."

Immediately Annabelle dropped the spoon (that she had been holding so tightly that the handle was imprinted into her palm) onto the plate and jumped up from her seat to follow the woman. Her heart pounded in her chest as Professor McGonagall hurried her through the corridors, up several flights of stairs and opened the door to her office to reveal a very agitated looking Professor Dumbledore. She was disappointed to see that he was alone.

"You wanted to see me, monsieur?" she asked, entering the office.

"Yes. Please take a seat," the old man replied. Annabelle sat in one of the chairs in front of Professor McGonagall's desk and Professor Dumbledore sat down beside her. "As you know, I had every intention of introducing you to Harry this evening, but, due to recent events, I think it better to wait several more days."

Annabelle's heart dropped. "Is it true, monsieur?" she asked. "About Harry flying -"

"- a car to school." Professor Dumbledore looked very grave as her confirmed her question. He continued on to explain all of her brother's doings that evening.

"Is he alright?" she asked anxiously. "Is he in trouble?"

"He is perfectly fine," the headmaster assured her. "He is a little banged up from their crash landing, but otherwise, he is in perfect health.

"As for trouble, both Harry and Mr. Weasley will receive detention and I will be writing home to their families."

Annabelle nodded and looked at the floor. Professor Dumbledore seemed to understand that she was disappointed, and he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"I know you wish to meet him sooner rather than later," he said softly. "But I think it better to let him get over his latest adventure before thrusting a new sister upon him."

Annabelle nodded to show that she understood, and Professor Dumbledore stood back up. He walked to the door and pulled it open. Before he left, he turned to look at her. "I must return to the Great Hall. You may accompany me, if you like."

"I think I'm just going to go back to the common room, sir," Annabelle said. "I'm not very hungry anymore."

Professor Dumbledore nodded and held the door open as Annabelle walked past him. She said goodnight the headmaster and then hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.

She was sitting on her bed when she heard a growing rumble from down the stairs. She figured that the rest of the students from Gryffindor house had come up from the feast, but she stayed where she was. She wasn't really in any mood to socialize at the moment.

A few moments later, the dull rumble erupted into a tremendous cacophony of cheers and whistles. Curious, Annabelle jumped up off her bed and hurried down the stairs.

The crowd at the bottom of the stairs was incredible; Annabelle didn't know how so many people had fit inside the room. Her attention was caught immediately by the scrawny black-haired boy standing in the middle of the room. People all around him were pounding him on the back and yelling at him, and he looked ecstatic. Annabelle grinned.

A moment later Harry's smile faded, and he poked his ginger friend in the side. He nodded at something in the corner, but Annabelle, still standing on the stairs, couldn't see what it was that had caught his attention. Both boys began to work their way through the crowd towards their own dormitories. When they had disappeared from sight, Annabelle went back to her room.

She had just finished getting changed into her pajamas when the door burst open and four girls hurried in. She recognized the one at the end of the line as the girl that she had been sitting with at the feast.

"Hey!" the girl said, waving at her. "I was wondering where you had gotten to."

"I had to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Annabelle explained.

The girl nodded. "I'm Alicia, by the way. Alicia Spinnet; this is Angelina Johnson," she pointed to a tall, athletic-looking black girl, "that is Olivia Smith," a blond girl with shockingly blue eyes grinned at her, "and this is Margie Bensen." The last girl eyes Annabelle up critically, and then gave her a quick smile before turning away.

Annabelle smiled and said a quick hello to them all and then climbed into her bed. She wanted to be well rested for her first day of classes.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So, friends, I will promise you that in the next chapter, Annabelle will finally be introduced to Harry as his sister. It won't happen here, sorry, but she will meet someone else important! :D **

Annabelle's day started off well and continued to improve as it went on. At breakfast, she managed to find a seat close enough to her brother to be able to hear what he was saying, but not close enough for him to think that she was spying on him. Her new dorm mates, led by Alicia, sat with her and included her in their conversations, even though she didn't know the people that they were gossiping about. She didn't care, she just listened in anyway; it was nice to have other girls to talk to. At Beauxbatons, Fleur was one of the few girls who would talk to her. And she preferred it that way; the 'ladies' at her old school were much too prim and proper for her tastes. Annabelle was impressed to learn that both Alicia and Angelina were on the Quidditch team, and that the other girls enjoyed the sport as well. She was beginning to feel as though she belonged here.

Halfway through breakfast, the mail came. Annabelle was shocked when the Great Hall was suddenly streaming with owls; at Beauxbatons, owls were never allowed in the castle.

"How did you get your mail, then?" Angelina asked when Annabelle said as much.

"The owls would fly into a post room, I'm not sure where it was, and then the house elves would take our mail to us on little silver plates," Annabelle explained to them. "And if we needed to mail a letter, then we had to call a house elf to us to bring it to the post room."

"That sounds unnecessarily complicated," Alicia said with a snort. "Why wouldn't they just do it like we do it here?"

"Madame Maxime would never allow an owl into the palace," Annabelle smiled as she remembered her old headmistress. "'They are filthy, dirty creatures!' She didn't want them around because of the mess that they make."

"Owls don't make a mess," Olivia said, frowning as she stroked the head of her own barn owl.

"She means when they shit everywhere," Angelina said, looking a little amused as Olivia's pet did just that and then flew away. "Yeah, I guess it is a little gross." She whipped out her wand and, with a wave, the pile of droppings vanished.

"Oh no!"

Annabelle turned to see what the matter was. Harry's friend was holding a bright red envelope that was smoking at the corners. A Howler! A friend of Annabelle's had received one from his mother the year before for turning the Transfiguration teacher's unicorn-hair wig purple.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

"She's – she's sent me a Howler," the ginger boy said faintly. He looked as though he might get sick.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said a chubby, round-faced boy. "It'll be worse if you don't. My Gran sent me once, and I ignored it and…it was horrible." He looked terrified.

"What's a Howler?"

Of course Harry wouldn't know what it was, but no one bothered to explain.

"Open it," urged the round-faced boy. "It'll all be over in a few minutes…"

Shaking, the boy named Ron slipped his finger under the flap and ripped it open; the round-faced boy stuffed his fingers in his ears.

"RONALD WEASLEY, HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR? I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU. YOU WAIT UNTIL I GET AHOLD OF YOU! I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW THAT IT HAD GONE. WE GOT THE LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED. I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED; YOUR FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

The envelope dropped out of Ron's hands and caught fire, shriveling up into ashes. The entire hall was dead silent for a moment, and then there was a great roar of laughter. Annabelle didn't join in when her dorm mates burst into hysterical giggles; she felt bad for the boys. The letter was intended for Ron, but Harry looked just as horrible as his friend did.

The bushy haired girl didn't seem to feel bad for them at all. She laid aside the book that she was reading and looked at the pair of them sternly.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you -"

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

Soon after, Harry and his friends rose from the table and quickly left the Great Hall. Annabelle watched them until they were out of sight.

"So, we have McGonagall first," Angelina said, looking down at the schedule that Professor McGonagall had just handed her. The older woman looked down at her as she handed them to the rest of the girls.

"Yes, and you had better not be late," she said sternly, but Annabelle was almost certain that she saw the teacher give them a half-smile.

"Don't worry, Professor," Olivia said quickly. "We're leaving here now."

Professor McGonagall continued down the table, and the girls hurriedly finished their breakfasts. When they finished, they stood as a group and made their way to the Transfiguration classroom.

Transfiguration had always been one of Annabelle's strongest classes, and she was pleased that she was still one of the best in the class. After they had finished taking their notes, she had been the first to change her beetle into a shiny black button. Professor McGonagall had given her a quick, but sincere, smile as she congratulated her.

Charms was also one of Annabelle's strong suites; Astronomy not so much. She sat with her books open, trying to find the different constellations and their main stars, but had very little luck.

All in all, her morning went by quickly and normally. Nothing of great interest happened until after lunch. After stopping in the Great Hall for a quick sandwich, Annabelle hurried down the stairs to the dungeons with the other girls. They all sat together at the table in the front of the class and set up their cauldrons as they waited for the teacher.

The moment the bell rang to start class, the door at the back burst open and the Potions Master stalked into the room.

"I want you to all turn your pages to three hundred and seventeen," Professor Snape said brusquely as he made his way to the front of the room. "We will start where we left off last year, with the Sleeping Draft."

He got to the front of the classroom and turned on his heel to face his students. His gaze swept lazily over the group before him, but when his eyes locked on Annabelle's, his face twisted into an ugly mask of horror. He took a step backwards and, for a moment, looked as though he were going to pass out. He quickly regained control of himself, though, he glared down at her.

"Who are you?" he barked, looking furiously at her.

"I am Annabelle, monsieur," Annabelle said quickly, her face flaming. "I am a transfer student."

He continued to stare at her for a moment, and then turned to the rest of the class. "Open your books! Read over the ingredients, and then start."

Annabelle was confused at the professor's reaction to her. Everybody that she had met in England so far had commented on how much she looked like her mother, but no one had reacted negatively towards her. Embarrassed, she kept her head down as she began to read over the potion.

Occasionally, she would feel a pair of eyes at the front of the class burning into the top of her head, but she refused to look up. She felt as though, the man hated her, although she had given him no reason to.

At the end of the class, Professor Snape walked around the room, marking everyone on their potions. Annabelle noted that he seemed to be very hard to please, and was very rude to several of her classmates, and she got nervous.

Finally, he made his way to the front of the room. He stopped in front of her and looked into her cauldron.

"Did you brew this?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, monsieur," Annabelle said. She was so nervous that she was hardly able to look up at him.

The Potions Master took a ladle and scooped the concoction out of her cauldron. He lifted it to his nose and smelled it deeply before slowly pouring it back. He stirred it once and then stood back.

"It's perfect," he said softly. "Simply perfect." And without another word, he walked to his desk, completely ignoring the rest of Annabelle's table. "Class is dismissed. I will clean up."

No one moved; they looked around at once another in confusion, as though they didn't know if it was safe to leave. Professor Snape looked up at them and glared.

"Leave!" he snapped, and the class, as one, jumped to their feet and dashed towards the door. Annabelle cast the man one more glance before following her classmates.

"That was so strange," Alicia said as they made their way up to the Great Hall. "Professor Snape never lets us leave early."

"Or without cleaning up," Angelina added.

"And he never compliments anyone other than a Slytherin," Olivia piped up. "He must really like you, Annabelle."

"I thought that he hated me," Annabelle replied. "He was very rude at the first of class."

"Oh, that's just typical Snape," Angelina informed her. "He always acts like that."

Annabelle shrugged. "Well, I was sure that he hated me."

"I don't think so," Margie said as they entered the Great Hall for supper. "He's never nice to Gryffindors; I think he might have a new favorite student."

Annabelle shook her head and took her seat at the table, which was already laden with pots of steaming stew, and settled in to eat. She was starving; who knew that a day at school could be so exciting.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hi, guys, I'm so sorry for taking so long with this chapter. It nearly killed me writing it, just because I felt as though nothing was coming out as I wanted it to. It still isn't anything like I wanted it to be, but I can't get it right now, and you all have waited for way to long, so I'm posting it anyway. If anyone has ideas about how I can fix it, I would most definitely be grateful to hear them. Thanks for sticking with me. **

The first week of school went by without incident. When she wasn't sneakily watching Harry, Annabelle continued to go to class and study with her new friends. She had always been good at school, but it seemed that here in England, she did even better than she had at Beauxbatons. All of her teachers were highly impressed with her, even Professor Snape. His praise for her made her an almost instant celebrity in Gryffindor Tower. She had single-handedly earned Gryffindor House more than one hundred points in just a week, most of them from Potions class.

"I can't figure out why he likes you so much," Alicia complained as they were leaving the dungeons. "My potion was just as good as yours, but he said that it was only mediocre, and yours was 'fantastic'."

"I know," Annabelle replied. "I don't quite understand, either."

They continued into the Great Hall, which was already packed with students on their lunch break. Annabelle saw her brother sitting at the middle of the table, talking animatedly with his friends. She was immensely glad that he seemed to be feeling better since the day of the Howler. She desperately wanted to go and talk with him, but Dumbledore still hadn't introduced him to her, and he still hardly noticed her. Instead, Annabelle reluctantly turned away from him and sat with her friends.

"What class do we have after lunch?" Olivia asked as she filled her plate.

"Charms," Annabelle, who had all but one of her classes with the other girl, replied. "And then you've got Muggle Studies."

"Right, thanks."

"Excuse me, but could you pass the stew?" Annabelle looked up and directly into the pale blue eyes of the boy sitting down the table from them. Annabelle had noticed before that he was a very attractive boy, with dark brown hair and a brilliant smile. He smirked at her and nodded at the pot sitting just out of his reach. "I can't quite reach it."

"Of course," she replied. She stood quickly and lifted the pot easily, handing it to him. His hand closed over hers and she jerked away from him, her face flaming.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "And thanks." He set the stew down on the table in front of him and began digging it out onto his plate.

Annabelle sank back into her own seat, her face still beat red, and the girls began to laugh.

"What was that?" Angelina hissed at her as she tried to control her chuckles.

"What was what?" Annabelle replied, focusing determinedly on her plate.

"What was _that_?" the girl giggled, motioning towards the boy, who was now talking loudly with his friends. "With Justin?"

"Is that his name?" Annabelle asked interestedly. "I didn't know."

"You fancy the boy, but you didn't know his name?" Margie asked, laughing loudly.

"Hush!" Annabelle hissed at her roommate. "Shut up; I do not fancy him!"

"Then why are you blushing so much?" Margie countered, grinning.

"I'm not blushing!"

"I'm rather afraid that you are, my dear."

All of the girls turned to look up at Professor Dumbledore as he smiled down at them.

"Oh, Professor, I didn't see you there," Olivia said quickly, standing up to speak to the Headmaster.

"That is alright, Miss Smith," Professor Dumbledore assured her. "I realize that it is difficult to pay attention to the goings on around us when we are teasing our friends. Do, please, resume your seat." He smiled brightly at them and laid his hand on Annabelle's shoulder. "I am afraid that I must steal your new friend from you for a short time."

"Yes, of course, Professor," Alicia said. "Take her for as long as you want."

"Thank you, Miss Spinnet. Annabelle, I would ask you to follow accompany us to my office."

It wasn't until then that Annabelle noticed that Harry was standing several feet behind the Headmaster, looking at the girls as though they were slightly insane. Her smile faltered a bit and she looked up at Professor Dumbledore questioningly. He smiled back at her and nodded almost unnoticeably. She jumped to her feet quickly, almost knocking her goblet of milk into Angelina's lap.

"Hey!" the girl cried, reaching out to steady the rocking cup.

"Sorry," Annabelle replied breathlessly.

"Good day to you, girls," Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully as he started to walk away from the table, his arm around Annabelle's shoulders. "Come along, Harry."

"Yes, sir."

As they stepped out of the castle, Professor Dumbledore smiled down at her. "I am pleased that you are making friends here," he said quietly, so only Annabelle could hear him. "I was a little worried that you would take your job too seriously and not have any fun here at Hogwarts."

Annabelle smiled at him briefly. "Of course not, monsieur."

They continued their way to Dumbledore's office, not one of them saying a word. Professor Dumbledore seemed to be at ease, humming a tune softly under his breath, but neither Annabelle nor Harry made so much as a peep as they made their way up the spiraling staircase.

Once in the office, Professor Dumbledore urged them to sit, and then settled him behind his desk to look at the two of them. Annabelle sat quickly, but Harry seemed to be in awe of the room, and took longer to take his seat. Even when he was in the chair, he was looking around in amazement, trying to see everything at once. Annabelle grinned as she watched him.

"I hope you are enjoying term as of yet?" Professor Dumbledore said to them.

"Yes, it's been lovely," Annabelle replied.

"And you, Harry?"

"Sorry, what sir?"

Annabelle smirked to herself, and even Professor Dumbledore had to smile.

"Do you like my things, Harry?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, sir," Harry replied eagerly. "They're fantastic."

"I'm glad you enjoy them." He sobered slightly, and he nodded to Annabelle. "Harry, do you know who this lovely young lady is?"

Harry looked at Annabelle closely for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, you're Annabelle Delacour," he replied, speaking directly to Annabelle. "You're from France, right?"

"_Oui_," Annabelle replied, smiling uncontrollably.

"Delacour?" Professor Dumbledore asked, not sounding surprised at all. "I find it strange that you know her by Delacour."

"It's habit, _monsieur_," Annabelle said quickly. "I am sorry."

He smiled at her. "It is perfectly alright. I cannot suddenly change your name after eleven years and expect you to remember."

"I'm confused," Harry said, frowning as he tried to understand.

"Annabelle has lived with the surname 'Delacour' for the past eleven years, Harry," Professor Dumbledore explained. "But that wasn't always her name, and I think that she has decided to take her old name back. Harry, I would like you to meet Annabelle Potter."

Harry stared hard at the Headmaster for several minutes, and then turned to look at Annabelle. His frown deepened, and he turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "I don't understand. Are we related?"

"Yes," Annabelle smiled at him. "We are."

"But I thought that I lived with the Dursleys because I had no other family!" Harry cried. "If I have a cousin, then I must have another aunt and uncle that could have taken me!"

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore began, but Harry interrupted.

"Did they just not want me?" he asked, looking very upset.

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore said again, this time a little more forcefully. "Annabelle is not your cousin. She is your sister."

The boy sat in his chair in silence for several seconds, staring first at the old man sitting on the other side of the desk, and then turning to look at the girl sitting in the chair beside him. His eyes raked over her face, and he frowned.

"No, she's not," Harry finally said. "I don't have a sister."

"I'm afraid that you are wrong there, young Harry," Professor Dumbledore assured him. "Annabelle _is_ your sister."

"How do you know?" Harry asked skeptically.

Dumbledore smiled. "I went myself to get her in France. I, myself, am the one who took her there in the first place. And also, anyone who knew your mother, Harry, would be able to tell you that this fine young lady in front of us is, indeed, Lily's daughter. She looks as much like your mother as you do your father."

"I can't believe it," Harry said slowly. "I just…I can't have a sister. Why has no one ever told me that I had a sister?"

"In the time after the fall of Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore explained, "all people talked about was how the Potters were killed, and that their son was the one to defeat him. It was, and still is, an amazing tale. But no one ever spoke of the Potter girl, so eventually, she was forgotten. Not by all; there were those that wondered about her, but mostly she was forgotten."

"I'm not nearly as exciting as you are, Harry," Annabelle smiled at him.

"If you are still not convinced," Dumbledore said, "than just look at her eyes. You have the same ones; your mother's eyes."

Harry took a closer look at Annabelle, and then shook his head and looked away. He was quiet again for a long time, looking at the floor instead of at either of the other people in the room. Finally, he looked up.

"I don't understand!" he cried. "Why were we separated? If she is my sister, why did we both not live with the Dursley's? Why was she sent to France?"

"This is a question that I, alas, cannot answer at the moment, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "In a few years you will be old enough to understand. But for now, be happy that your sister has returned to you."

"No," Harry yelled, jumping to his feet. "No, I don't have a sister. You are _not _my sister. If you were you wouldn't have left me! You would have stayed with me, when I needed you."

"Harry," Annabelle started, trying to soothe her brother's anger, but he cut her off.

"Don't talk to me!" he cried, clapping his hands to his ears. "I don't want to hear it."

Without another word, he turned and dashed out of the room. Annabelle jumped up to follow him, but a hand on her shoulder held her firmly in place. She turned to see that Professor Dumbledore was standing beside her, looking down at her with a small smile.

"Where are you going, Annabelle?" he asked.

"I have to follow him," Annabelle cried urgently. "I have to talk to him, to make him understand."

"Leave him be," the old man said firmly. "It's a hard thing to try to understand, especially for someone so young."

"But, monsieur," Annabelle cried. "He hates me!"

"Of course he doesn't," Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "Just give him some time to get over the shock, my dear, and then he will come around."

Annabelle looked at the door, debating whether to listen to the Headmaster or not, and he seemed to know this, because he squeezed her shoulder gently.

"I promise you," he said gently. "He will soon be thankful to have you back in his life. Trust me."

Annabelle nodded slowly, and Dumbledore dismissed her.

That evening in the Common Room, Annabelle sat quietly with her friends while they worked on their homework together. She tried desperately to concentrate on the three foot essay that Professor Binns had set them, but she couldn't, partially because Angelina and one of the Weasley twins were sending notes flying across the room at each other, and neither one of them had particularly good aim, and partially because she could feel a pair of hostile eyes burning into the top of her head from in front of the fire.

Finally, she gave up.

"Where are you going?" Alicia asked.

"I'm just going to go to bed," Annabelle replied as she packed her books into her book bag. "I can't concentrate."

"I'll stop," Angelina said quickly. "I didn't mean to distract you."

"No, it's not your fault," Annabelle assured her. "I've just got a lot on my mind. I'll see you all in the morning."

"'Night," the rest of her friends called as she crossed the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey guys, so sorry for taking so long to update. I had planned to try to do one chapter a week, but I've been taking extra shifts at work, so by the time I get home, I'm just too tired to do anything but go to bed. Thanks so much for anyone who had been sticking with me, and thank you for the fantastic reviews. Remember, I would love to hear any ideas you might have about the story. And as always, I do not own anything Potter related. **

Despite Dumbledore's advice, Annabelle spent the following month trying to talk to Harry. It didn't work, though, because every time that she tried to get close enough to him to say something to him, he would shoot her a dirty look and walk away, his friends shooting her confused looks before following. It hurt that he wouldn't so much as say a word to her, but Annabelle refused to give up; he couldn't hate her forever, could he?

Most days, she had to sneak around so her friends wouldn't know what she was doing. Because of Harry's reaction to her, she had decided to continue to be called 'Delacour', and no one else knew that she was Harry's sister, so they would think that she was just being weird following a second year boy around like a little puppy.

This was made easier for her, though, one morning in early October. She was sitting at Gryffindor table with the girls, barely listening as Alicia and Margie discussed the boys in their year. The other girls were very interested in the topic of conversation, and frequently added their own opinions, but Annabelle couldn't care less. She had too much on her mind to even think about boys.

"What do you think, Anna?" Alicia asked.

"About what?" Annabelle asked, looking up from her plate.

"Were you honestly not paying attention?" Margie scoffed. "Come on, Anna, this is important; it's a matter of life and death, here."

"What were we talking about?" Annabelle asked them curiously. Had the topic changed drastically in the five minutes that she had stopped listening.

"Whether or not Morgan Quiticker is good-looking enough to overlook his geekiness," Margie stated, rolling her eyes.

"I hardly think that's a matter of life and death," Annabelle replied, grinning.

"Um…hello, dating him could be possible social suicide," Margie said, speaking as though Annabelle was stupid.

Annabelle laughed and shook her head. "Guys, I have better things to think about than whether this boy is good enough to date."

"And so do the rest of you," came a deep voice from behind them.

Annabelle turned to look over her shoulder and saw one of the sixth year boys standing behind them, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at them. Annabelle had never spoken to the boy, but she had definitely seen him, and knew exactly who he was; everyone knew Oliver Wood.

"Oh no," Alicia groaned, dropping her head onto the table.

"What do you want, Oliver?" Angelina asked.

"We start practice tomorrow, girls," he replied, looking cheerful. "We need to be in top form. There can be no reruns from last year; we will win the Quidditch Cup this year."

"It's none of our faults that we didn't win last year," Alicia said, looking very grumpy. "Harry was in hospital, Wood. We'll have no problem winning this year."

Annabelle was suddenly much more interested in the conversation; she didn't know that Harry was on Gryffindor's quidditch team.

"Well we're going to have to work hard to make sure," he stated. "Eight o'clock tomorrow morning, girls. Be ready."

He walked away and hurried down the table to talk to the Weasley twins.

"Urg, that means that we have to be up and in the Great Hall by seven if we want something to eat first," Alicia complained.

"This won't be our earliest morning," Angelina said glumly. "At least the sun will be up for this practice."

"Well, I hope you girls have fun with that," Margie laughed.

"What?" Angelina glared at her. "Are you not coming with us?"

"At seven in the morning? I don't think so; I plan to still be sleeping then, so try to be quiet when you get up, will you?"

"Olivia?" Alicia asked, looking at the other girl. "Are you going to come down with us?"

"Well, I was hoping to sleep in a little bit tomorrow," Olivia replied quietly, not looking at either of the girls. "And, well, I'm not really into quidditch all that much…"

"Oh, never mind," Angelina snapped.

"I'll go with you," Annabelle said quickly. "I've never really seen quidditch played before."

"What?" Angelina and Alicia looked at her like she had said something completely inappropriate.

"Did you just say that you've never seen quidditch?" Oliver Wood, who had been leaning on the table as he spoke to Harry, stood up and made his way back up the table looking furious.

"Um, yes, I did," Annabelle replied, feeling more than a little bit uncomfortable. People all along the table, and several people at the next, were staring at her. "Well, not really; I used to watch the boys playing on the weekend, but it wasn't a real team or anything, just the boys playing around. Really, it's not that big of a sport in France. And girls weren't supposed to play, anyway; it's not very lady-like."

"Bullshit!" Angelina yelled angrily. "What do they think they're doing, not teaching you quidditch? It's brilliant."

"I've always wanted to see a real game," Annabelle said quickly. "I've just never had the chance. I don't even know how it works."

"Well, don't you worry," Oliver said, squeezing himself onto the bench between Annabelle and Angelina. "I'll teach you all about it." And he was off, explaining every little detail about the sport to an enthused Annabelle until the warning bell sounded.

"I have to go!" Annabelle exclaimed, jumping up from the table. She hadn't realized that everyone else had left, and that only she and Oliver remained in the Great Hall. "I'm going to be late for class."

"Where are you headed?" Oliver asked her.

"Potions," she replied.

"Shit, Snape's going to kill you!" he cursed. "Do you want me to come with you, to take some of the blame?"

"No, it's fine," Annabelle said. "I'll see you later."

She dashed across the Entrance Hall and ran down the many stairs to the classroom in the dungeons, making it through the door just as the bell rang to start class.

"You are very nearly late, Miss Delacour," Professor Snape drawled as she made her way to her seat.

"I know," she replied. "I'm sorry, Professor, I lost track of time; Oliver Wood was teaching me about quidditch."

"See that it doesn't happen again," he said sternly before turning to the blackboard.

"I don't see how you never get in trouble," Margie muttered as Annabelle sat down and began to set up her cauldron.

"I don't see how you could all have just got up and walked away without telling me," Annabelle countered. "I almost missed class."

"No one wanted to interrupt," Margie smirked. "You seemed to be very interested in what Oliver was telling you. Much more so than to what the girls and I were saying; I think you must fancy him."

Annabelle blushed madly, but tried not to let Margie see. Obviously she thought that the Quidditch captain was good-looking; she would have to be blind not to. But that didn't mean than she fancied him. She hardly knew the boy.

Seven o'clock the next morning came much earlier than Annabelle expected it to. Alicia had had to hit her several times with her pillow before Annabelle had been able to crawl out of bed. Both Angelina and Alicia were already dressed in their red quidditch robes, and sat on their beds talking quietly while Annabelle got ready.

"Ready?" Alicia asked when Annabelle came out of the bathroom.

"Oui," Annabelle replied. "Let's go."

The girls had barely sat at the table with the rest of the team (which Annabelle was pleased to see her brother and his friends among them) when Oliver Wood arrived.

"Are you lot ready?" he asked, looking down at them.

"We just got here, Wood," Angelina said. "Let us get something to eat first."

"Well hurry up," he snapped.

"You said practice would be at eight," she growled at him. "It's not even seven thirty yet, so you can just shut your face."

Oliver grumbled under his breath but sat down with the rest of his team. He looked around darkly at them until he spotted Annabelle sitting between her two friends.

"Good morning, Annabelle," he said cheerfully.

"Good morning," she replied, smiling brightly at him.

"You coming down to watch?"

"Yes, of course," she said. "I only hope I can follow along with that is happening."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he assured her. "Do you remember everything I taught you yesterday?"

"I think so," she frowned as she tried to remember.

"What is the name of the balls?"

"There's a quaffle," Annabelle stated. "And two bludgers and a snitch."

"Good, and what are they for?"

The quizzing continued all through breakfast and all the way across the school grounds to the quidditch pitch. Finally, the only other girl on the team snapped.

"Oliver, would you leave the poor girl alone?" she said in exasperation. "You're grilling her even more than you do us, and she's not even part of the team."

"She shouldn't be here then," Harry muttered just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Hey, you bring Hermione and this twat to practices with you," one of the Weasley twins said, frowning at Harry. "So you can't say anything."

Harry's face reddened, but he said nothing more.

"We'll be out in a few minutes," Oliver told her as they came to the changing rooms. "You can go sit in the benches if you want."

Annabelle nodded and hurried off to find a seat. To her surprise, Harry's friends followed her.

"Hi," the girl said. "I'm Hermione Granger. And this is Ron Weasley."

"I know who you are," Annabelle smiled at them.

"You're Harry's sister, right?" Hermione asked cautiously.

"Oh, he told you, did he?" Annabelle asked, honestly very surprised. "I thought that he'd just decided that he was going to hate me."

"He does," the red headed boy said. "He doesn't say anything really nice about you."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "That's not true."

"I'm sure it is," Annabelle said. "He doesn't seem to like me at all."

"He is angry," Hermione said slowly. "But I know that he'll get over it eventually. I mean, he can't hate his sister forever."

"We'll see," Annabelle sighed. "But I hope you're right."

"What's going on?" Ron asked suddenly, looking down at the pitch. Annabelle and Hermione turned to look. A group of boys in green robes were making their way across the field. Annabelle looked up to see that Oliver Wood was streaking towards the ground, his face furious. The rest of the team followed.

"Flint!" Oliver shouted at the Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

"Oh dear," Annabelle said, jumping to her feet. "I can see this ending in a fight." She hurried down the stairs and onto the field, Hermione and Ron following closely behind her. She ran across the field to stand next to Angelina. Ron stepped up next to Harry.

"I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

"You've got a new Seeker?" Wood asked distractedly. "Where?"

A boy stepped out from behind the others wearing a wide smirk sprawled across his face. He had a pointed, pale face and white blonde hair, and Annabelle thought that he didn't look very friendly.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" asked one of the Weasleys, not looking impressed.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

As one, all seven people dressed in green held out their broomsticks for the others to see. They had long, shiny black handles with gold lettering at the top. To Annabelle, one broomstick looked much like another, but they must have been nice, because the entire Gryffindor team were staring at them with their mouths hanging open.

"Very latest model; only came out last month," said Flint carelessly. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps," - he smiled nastily at the Weasley twins - "sweeps the board with them."

No one on the Gryffindor team seemed able to say anything for a few minutes, and then Ron let out a sigh of admiration.

"Good, aren't they?" said the Malfoy boy. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team laughed loudly, and Annabelle was suddenly furious. She opened her mouth to say something, but Hermione beat her to it.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way onto the team," the girl said sharply. "They all got in on pure talent."

The smile on the blonde Malfoy boy's face flickered and he scowled deeply at her. "No one asked you're opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

Annabelle's mouth dropped open as the words came from the boy's mouth. She had never in her life met someone so rude and, although she knew very well what the word meant, she had never actually heard it used in a conversation. She wanted to do or say something to him, but before she could even think, everyone else had already acted. The captain of the Slytherin team had to jump in front of the boy to prevent the Weasley's from jumping on him.

"How dare you?" Alicia shrieked, looking absolutely disgusted.

"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" Ron pulled out his wand, which seemed to be bound together with Spellotape, and pointed it at the other boy. Annabelle didn't think that it was a good idea for him to use his wand, but before she could say anything, there was a loud bang and a green light shot out of the wrong end of the wand, hitting Ron square in the chest. He was bowled over backwards onto the grass, clutching at his stomach.

"Ron! Ron!" Hermione squealed, running to his side. "Are you alright?"

Ron looked very sick, and when he opened his mouth to speak, several large slugs came out with a loud belch.

"O mon Dieu!" Annabelle cried, covering her mouth with her hands. "That is disgusting."

The other girls seemed to think the same way, but the Slytherin quidditch team were roaring with laughter. The Gryffindors were all standing around Ron as he continued to burp up slugs, no one wanting to touch him.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's," Harry said finally to Hermione. "It's nearest."

"I'll help," Annabelle said, stepping forward, but Harry, with his arm around his friend, glared at her.

"I don't need your help," he said sharply.

Annabelle stopped and nodded slowly, looking at the ground.

"Hey, Potter!" Oliver growled at him. "You do not talk to a lady like that!"

"It's fine," Annabelle said quickly. "I don't care."

A small boy who Annabelle had never seen before hurried up to them, a Muggle camera grasped tightly in his hands.

"What happened, Harry?" he asked in a high voice. "What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?"

Ron chose that moment to expel another mouthful of slugs out onto the grass. Annabelle felt her stomach clench at the sight of it, but the small boy seemed to be fascinated.

"Ooh," he said, looking mesmerized. He lifted his camera up. "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Get out of the way, Colin," Harry said angrily. He and Hermione slowly made their way away from the rest of the group in the direction of the gamekeeper's hut.

"Well, I guess that's the end of our practice," Angelina said, not sounding upset at all.

"Why do these things keep happening to us?" Oliver growled, watching as his Seeker disappeared from sight.

"Because your team is full of losers," one of the Slytherin boys replied, still laughing. "You can't honestly expect to win with a group like that, can you, Wood?"

Wood glared at him, and the Weasleys seemed ready to fight again, so Annabelle stepped in and put a hand on each of their arms.

"Don't," she said softly. "If you get into a fight, then you'll get into a lot of trouble."

"She's right," Katie Bell replied. "You might even get taken off the team."

"Let's go," Oliver said quickly. "We'll go over strategy in the Common Room."

The rest of the team groaned, but no one complained. They all followed their Captain back up to the school. Annabelle shot the Slytherins one more glare before following them.

"What's up with Harry?" Alicia asked as they entered the Entrance Hall. "I wonder why he's being so mean to you."

"I have no idea," Annabelle lied.


End file.
